


The Only Thing That Makes Moving Worse is Bellamy Blake

by MissMarissa



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Banter, Communication, Dirty Talk, Emotional Constipation, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mutually Unrequited, Oops this got smutty, Pining!Bellamy, Resolved Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Sorry Not Sorry, Tumblr Prompt, Unrequited Crush, Unresolved Sexual Tension, pining!clarke
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:10:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMarissa/pseuds/MissMarissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr Prompt: "Can you do one where Bellamy is helping Clarke move (or vice versa) and he drops a box, and a bunch of sex toys fall out of it.  Clarke walks in the room just seconds afterwards, but it’s too late because Bellamy already saw all of it.  Smut ensues."  </p><p>Note the rating change ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clarke I

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is a light-hearted story something to give my brain (and soul) a break from the intensity of my other fic (which you should totally check out: [Unexpected Explorations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3754966/chapters/8335189). It's a fic with a strong E rating, so be forewarned ;) 
> 
> The rating of this fic is T for now, but will go up in later chapters. Because, let's face it, I'm trash for these two...

Clarke hates moving. The packing and unpacking of box after box is about the least satisfying way she can spend her time. The only thing that makes moving worse is Bellamy Blake.

Clarke is grateful for his help, she really is. He’s strong _(so strong),_ so he can carry all of her heavy items, and he doesn’t even complain about it because he enjoys the opportunity to show off his (incredible) arms… But seriously, she wishes Octavia had given her a heads-up that Bellamy would be here. Maybe she would have dressed in clothing that wasn’t… awful. Yeah, she _knows_ , she’s moving. She’s doing manual labor, and looking good really isn’t the priority. But we’re talking about Bellamy. No, she doesn’t still have a crush on him – that was like, ten years ago. She’s a big girl now, not a drooling freshman with heart-eyes for the most popular boy in high school.

She’s not saying she would have worn a club-worthy bodycon dress, but maybe she would have picked a T-shirt that actually _fit_ instead of the one that’s two sizes too big and hanging off her torso in all the wrong places... Maybe she would have worn jeans that _didn’t_ sag off her hips. (Yeah, she definitely should have gotten rid of her “fat jeans” after she got in shape. It’s been like, eight years since they fit, a fact of which she is proud, thank you. They remind her how far she’s come, _that’s_ why she kept them.) What the hell was she thinking, wearing this getup anyway? She figured she didn’t need to look good, she’s just getting all sweaty, right? It’s not like she’d need to impress anyone.

It doesn’t matter, because it’s too late to find an outfit that’s a perfect mix of practical and appealing when all her clothes are already packed up, en route their new apartment. It doesn’t matter because she just opened her front door to face Bellamy Blake, somehow looking unfairly gorgeous dressed in a stupid T-shirt and jeans. Willing her wild heart rate to calm down, Clarke moves out of the way so he can come in.

“Um… Hi.” She says (lamely).

“Good morning, Princess.” No, Clarke’s heart is not fluttering because he flashed that stupid smirk at her. Okay? Nope. She had too much caffeine this morning. Wait, no, she hasn’t had her coffee. Speaking of coffee… She realizes she’s still staring at him when he breaks the awkward silence, “What do you want me to move first?”

“Slow down there. I’m still just waking up. Do you want some coffee or something?” Clarke is trying not to sound like a bitch, but it’s difficult to suppress that particular trait when she isn't fully awake. She can’t actively hate morning people today, not when two of them showed up at the crack of dawn and graciously packed up their truck full of boxes to take to her new place. She reminds herself to buy Raven & Wick a case of their favorite beer to thank them for their efforts, even if she _was_ mostly asleep when they arrived.

“Nah, I’m good.” Bellamy’s perfect smile has nothing to do with the fact that her stomach feels like it’s trying to contain a herd of butterflies.

“Okay, well… I need coffee.” Clarke disappears into the kitchen and she is absolutely not jittery because Bellamy Blake is standing in her living room. When she spills her searing hot coffee down the front of the ugly, frumpy T-shirt, she can’t find it in herself to feel bad about ruining it. She does, however, want to avoid burning herself, so she tears off the ugly T-shirt to get the scalding fabric off her torso. And her pants are wet and scorching so in a panic, she pops the zipper and tries to kick them off before her thighs get burned.

And _of course_ Bellamy would choose this moment to walk into the kitchen, just in time to see her standing in only her bra and underwear, with her fat jeans halfway down her legs. Clarke thinks to herself, _oh thank god, thank god I’m wearing my good bra..._ Yeah, she was pissed this morning when she couldn’t find a “practical” bra, leaving her no choice but to wear the sexy black lace lingerie set that she'd forgotten to pack because it had been hang-drying in the laundry room. But now she thinks maybe there was a higher power involved or something.  And really, she can’t help but feel a little better about herself when Bellamy just stands there like an idiot, staring at her with his mouth open. What’s even cuter is the difficulty he’s having keeping his eyes on her face, even though it’s obvious that he’s dying to sweep his gaze up and down her half-naked form. The plate in his hands crashes to the floor, and while it may be a pain in the ass to replace it (it was part of a set), she’s gonna go ahead and count this as a win.

Octavia comes waltzing in and rolls her eyes at the scene. Seeing the coffee-soaked T-shirt in a heap on the kitchen floor, and the two dumb-struck idiots frozen in place, she pieces the events together pretty quickly and thankfully intervenes. Clarke mumbles something like “ _but coffee…_ ” as Octavia grabs her by her upper arm and pulls her out through the other side of the kitchen.

They get to O’s room, which is still covered in clothes that need to be packed. Suddenly, Clarke isn’t so judgmental of O’s procrastination, especially since it’s benefiting her. O throws her a tank-top, and Clarke barks out a laugh at the absurdity of trying to fit her boobs into O’s tiny shirt. O rolls her eyes, “Or you can just wear your bra. Bellamy didn’t seem to mind.” Clarke blushes a fierce shade of red when she remembers what happened three minutes ago.

Clarke shakes her head, “Thanks for the top, O.” She pulls the too-small tank top over her head and slips on the athletic shorts Octavia tosses her way. How is it that O can wear these shorts and look sporty, when they look like glorified underwear on her own ass? Clarke is pretty sure that it’s just dumb luck that the coffee disaster spared her bra, and for that she is grateful, because there’s no way she could fit into one of O’s. Yeah, the black lace is definitely showing through the stretched-out fabric. Well...

When Octavia sees her checking out her own ass in the mirror, the girl snorts and has the audacity to say “Yeah, you’re gonna give my brother a damn heart attack.” Clarke is absolutely not blushing because of that. Shut _up,_ her face is red because of all the physical labor from moving… and stuff. Not because of Bellamy.

When she walks back out into the living room (in her too-tight tank top and her too-short shorts) and Bellamy almost walks into the wall with an end table in his arms, she decides she’ll go ahead and make a game of this today. Because a flustered Bellamy Blake is about the best thing ever. She turns her back to him and bends over _slowly_ to pick up some stray packing peanuts, and grins to herself when she hears him clear his throat nervously, tripping over his feet as he bolts from the room.

As she stands back up, she hears Octavia’s voice, “Bellamy, that’s the laundry room. Why the hell are you trying to put a table in there?” When O glances at the living room and sees the devious grin on Clarke’s face, she doubles-over in laughter. Clarke gives her a half-hearted glare before chuckling a bit to herself.

Oh yeah. This is gonna be fun.


	2. Bellamy (I)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy knows exactly why his sister asked him to help move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for the kudos and comments! 
> 
> I just posted the first chapter last night, but I figured "eh, it's the weekend, what's one more?"  
> So, I give you Chapter 2.

Bellamy knows exactly why his sister asked him to help move. Octavia is perfectly aware of how bad he has it for Clarke Griffin.

When O told him about Clarke’s crush in high school, she was 15 and he was a legal adult. So yeah, he thought it was kind of adorable. Maybe he tried to be a little nicer to the pudgy freshman than he was to the other girls who hopelessly crushed on him, but it had nothing to do with reciprocated interest, and everything to do with the fact that she was Octavia’s best friend. Again. He was an adult, she was barely a teenager. Ew.

So three years later, when he visited home to intimidate O’s senior prom date, he felt a little bit like a creep because he couldn’t stop ogling the Princess. She was definitely not this hot before he left for college. And maybe his heart skipped a few beats when she came downstairs with O, dressed in a sapphire blue gown that hugged her barely-legal curves so perfectly it almost made his head spin. And maybe he wanted to break the fingers off of Finn Fucking Collins’ hand when he was placing that corsage on her dress. (Really, that dress should have been illegal.) Anyone would agree with him, it was highly inappropriate for Finn’s hands to be that close to ~~his~~ the Princess’s chest. The asshole should have bought her a wrist corsage. 

No, he wasn’t _jealous_ of Finn. And he wasn’t fantasizing about _his_ hands being that close to her breasts. Just like he didn’t have highly inappropriate dreams about eating her out until she couldn’t remember anything but his name as she cried it out like a prayer. And a few months after that when he came to O’s graduation, he definitely didn’t fantasize about what sounds the princess might make if he took her against the wall in the maintenance closet by the gym. That would have been… wrong?

So Bellamy has been a perfect gentleman around Clarke Griffin. Okay, that’s not totally true. She’s called him a “womanizing asshole” on more than just a few occasions, and if he’s being honest, he kind of earned that appraisal. Like when she and O would drop by unannounced to find him unceremoniously shooing another one-night-stand out the door. Okay, and maybe he was an asshole to Clarke when he walked out of his bedroom one morning and found her and O offering coffee and donuts to one of his conquests. “God, Bellamy, you could be a little nicer to the girl!”

And maybe he didn’t help things when he explained, “I don’t want them to have any expectations, so please stop feeding them.” Fine, maybe he was being a little callous, but why should she care? It’s not like he was booting _her_ out of his bed and making her take the walk of shame home.  

Whatever, they got over it. Fine, he’s an asshole, he’ll admit it. But so is she. Little Miss I’m-Never-Wrong is as just hard-headed and stubborn as he is. He’s just a little… louder about it. He smiles when he thinks, no, she's pretty damn loud, too. His reasons for riling her up are not related to his infatuation with the spark in her eye when she’s all pissed off at him. (Yes, they are.) 

So when O asks him to come help her and Clarke move to their new apartment, his mouth says yes before his brain can stop him. O gives him a knowing smirk and he has to tell her to shut the fuck up.

When he knocks at the girls’ apartment, he hears the Princess griping as she opens the door. She’s all grunts and grumbles at this hour of the morning, asking him something about coffee, but he’s too distracted by how messy Clarke looks, and how much he likes it. He thinks Disheveled-Clarke might be one of his favorite Clarkes. To be honest, it makes him think of how much he wants to wake up to her looking like this… How _he_ wants to be what makes her look this wild.

Clarke scowls and mentions coffee again, so he just smiles like an idiot as she shuffles into the kitchen. He sees a plate in the corner of the living room, and thinks he might get on her good side this morning by bringing it into the kitchen and washing it.

He is absolutely not prepared to handle the situation he walks into. His mouth goes dry, and if he thought Disheveled-Clarke was great, he clearly didn’t realize that Clarke-in-Black-Lace-Lingerie was a thing. And now he’s not sure he’ll be able to think of anything else ever again.

Bellamy hears a crash on the floor by his feet, and it takes a few seconds for him to register that yeah, that’s his fault. He’s pretty sure Clarke is about to chew him out for it, so he doesn’t move. He’s not certain how long he’s been standing here, but their standoff comes to a merciful end when Octavia drags Clarke out of the kitchen.

With Clarke out of sight, he can finally do what he came here to do. He hauls a small bookcase down to his beat-up truck and comes back upstairs. He picks up another piece of furniture just as Clarke walks out of O’s room, her tits practically spilling out of a top that’s far too small. Not that he’s complaining _at all_. And those shorts? They are basically underwear. Again, not complaining. But _fuck,_ having her around all day is going to be really fucking difficult.

Then Bellamy almost walks straight into a wall, because _of course_ he does. Clarke’s facial expression goes from helpless to _predatory_ in a matter of seconds, and… shit, he’s so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, Thank you guys for the KUDOS and COMMENTS!!! 
> 
> They seriously fuel my creativity, so keep them coming!!!


	3. Clarke (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke gains more confidence as she keeps playing her little game...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU GUYS for your reviews and for all the KUDOS! I didn't really know what to expect in terms of a response, and I've gotta say, I'm thrilled. It's been a delight to write so far, and you guys have made it all the more enjoyable!

Octavia calls out to tell Bellamy there isn’t any room left in her car, so Clarke needs to ride with him. Clarke feels an obscene amount of pride when she finds Bellamy bent over in his driver’s seat, knocking his head against the steering wheel. She’s pretty sure he doesn’t know she can hear him cursing up a storm to the beat of the mini-honks of the horn caused by his forehead. She would be offended by his near-obsession with avoiding her today if she didn’t know exactly why he was freaking out. Yeah, his truck is pretty packed up, and Clarke can’t help but think it’s serendipitous that the floor in front of the passenger seat (and the seat itself) is covered in stuff. She huffs a laugh when Bellamy sputters out an apology for the passenger seat being too full to sit in. Clarke assures him with a gentle (torturous) hand on his shoulder that it’s perfectly okay. It's a bench seat, she can sit in the middle, she’ll be fine. She considers for a moment that _he_ might _not_ be fine, but reminds herself that getting him flustered is the point of all of her teasing. This is fun.  

Clarke is obnoxiously proud of herself when Bellamy starts coughing wildly after she bends over to pick up the purse that she dropped as she was getting into the truck.  No, she actually _didn’t_ drop it on purpose. But bending over slowly and (popping her ass out as she did so) is definitely intentional. She scoots into the middle seat, making a point to get as far from his seat as possible. She has plenty of time to scoot closer to him on the drive there. Luring him into a false sense of security is totally not part of this increasingly dangerous game she’s playing (Just kidding, yes, it absolutely is).

“Bellamy, _what_ are you listening to?” Clarke asks as she turns on the radio to hear NPR coming through the speakers. Dammit if she doesn’t find his concern with world events a huge turn-on. As much as she’d like to keep listening to it (she really would), that’s not part of the plan. She fumbles with the buttons, purposely fucking it all up. He resists taking over and helping her with the knobs until she “accidentally” turns the volume up to an ear-splitting level. As he reaches over to turn it down, she crosses one leg over the other, causing him to unintentionally graze the smooth skin of her thighs (unintentionally on his part, anyway). Radio teasing? Check.

Clarke is pretty sure Bellamy regrets asking, “Is O still behind us?” when she turns around, deliberately brushing her breasts against his arms as she twists her torso to get a better view. Clarke shrugs, making sure to generously graze his arm with each globe of flesh. Satisfaction shoots through her when he groans in frustration.

“Yeah, she’s about to pass us on the left so we can follow her.” She leans just slightly into him, squishing her left breast against him as she points out O’s car passing them by. She revels in his full-body shudder with an inordinate amount of pride. She hears her phone chime with a text, so she faces forward again to retrieve it. “O asked us to stop and pick up breakfast for everyone. Take the next exit.” Clarke is downright amused by Bellamy’s frantic nod. Again, she’d be offended by how badly he wants out of this truck if she didn’t know it was because he was sporting a raging hard-on right now.

Clarke takes vicious delight in Bellamy’s strangled groan when she presses into his shoulder, sandwiching his upper arm between her breasts as she leans over to look at the menu. She “accidentally” loses her balance and falls forward, catching herself by groping his (rock hard) pectorals as his hands dart up to her waist to help her steady herself. She shrugs innocently, “Sorry about that” as she moves to “dust” his shirt off. She looks up at his face and is taken aback by his blown-out pupils and parted lips. Now he’s got her locked in his gaze and she can feel her heartbeat in her ears.  She feels Bellamy's heart beating a wild tattoo under her palm, and she’s pretty sure it’s obvious she’s just as worked up. He looks at her lips, and she thinks o _h fuck oh fuck oh fuck this is going too far._ Before either of them can do anything else, the car behind them honks its horn telling them to stop holding up the line. Clarke swallows her disappointment as Bellamy drives to the pickup window.  

The rest of the trip to the new apartment, Clarke lays off the teasing, feeling beyond flustered herself. They both seem to appreciate the much-needed silence as Clarke tries not to overthink what almost happened at the drive through.

When Clarke walks into the new apartment, bags of fast-food breakfast in hand, Raven is sitting in one of the mismatched chairs in their new dining room, feet casually propped up on the newly-placed kitchen table. Wick is leaning against the wall, observing the group’s interactions like a NatGeo photographer surveying the Serengeti. Raven gives Clarke a once-over before she starts cackling, “Well, that explains why Blake walked in here looking like a complete fucking wreck.”

Clarke gives herself a mental pat on the back and shrugs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Raven rolls her eyes and laughs some more. “Please tell me you rode with him in his truck.”

“Uh, where else was I supposed to ride?”

Raven’s crowing is getting out of control, and Clarke starts to panic inside because now Bellamy is walking toward them. “Rae, _please_ shut the fuck up.” She tries to keep her voice even and hopes her begging looks inconspicuous, but Raven is taking unnecessary glee in her friend’s suffering and only laughs louder when Bellamy ambles awkwardly around them on his way back to his truck. 

Bellamy huffs as he walks by them, viciously glaring at Raven when he spits, “Fuck off, Reyes.”

Shit. Clarke didn’t want anyone getting hurt by this little game, and now she’s worried she’s ruined all of the progress she’s made with Bellamy. They’re almost friends now, she thinks. And she’s happy with them being _just_ friends. It’s cool, she gets plenty of raunchy fantasies fulfilled by Dream-Bellamy, so if she has to go the rest of her life without actually feeling his lips against hers, she’ll survive. I mean yeah, of course she’s curious as hell about how it would feel if Bellamy went down on her. Raven told her once that she would’ve given him a standing ovation if he hadn’t left her feeling like Jell-O afterwards. Yeah, Clarke remembers that conversation because she refused to speak to Raven for a week after that. Okay, she didn’t _refuse-_ refuse to talk to her, but she certainly avoided her and made a point not to look her in the eye for a long time. Ugh, stop looking at her like that. She wasn’t _jealous_ , it was just… weird. That’s her story and she’s sticking to it.  

Clarke ~~runs~~ trips like an idiot out the door to follow Bellamy, unsure of how much distance to leave between them at this point. She plays it safe and stays a few strides behind him, hoping to get a read on his mood.  It turns out the back of his head isn’t really providing any answers, and the rippling of his back muscles under his sweat-soaked T-shirt is proving to be really distracting. She doesn’t realize that he stopped until she walks right into him. Clarke sputters out an apology, something unintelligible about being clumsy. Bellamy smirks as he turns to face her, and _goddammit_ her heart starts fluttering again… And ugh, the twinkle in his warm eyes is not helping. His hand grazes her bare upper leg and the shit-eating grin on his handsome face tells her that the tables have, without question, turned.

One hand settles on her waist while the other reaches up to tuck a stray hair behind her ears. He looks down at her, and she thinks _oh fuck, he’s about to kiss me_. She forgets how to breathe as she feels herself melt into his gaze. He looks down at her lips, just like he did at the drive through, and she’s trying to prepare herself for the momentousness of whatever is about to happen. Her mind goes fuzzy as he dips his head down and hovers his lips just above hers, like he’s waiting for her to close the distance between them. Just when Clarke is about to work up the courage to do just that, he moves his lips to her ear.

She can feel his breath ruffle her hair before he whispers, _“Two can play this game, Princess…”_

He gives her waist a squeeze before stepping away and walking back toward his truck, leaving a confused and aroused Clarke standing in the hallway like a deer in the headlights.

Oh, hell no.  _  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying this, please remember to hit the KUDOS button!!! And REVIEWS fuel my creative fire! 
> 
> Again, thank you guys for the encouraging response!


	4. Bellamy (II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Princess is being incredibly unfair...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, these two...

The Princess is being incredibly unfair. At first Bellamy thinks that maybe it’s accidental. She seems honestly irritated when she drops her purse. But then she just _has_ to tease him with the delicious curves of her ass when she bends over to pick up the spilled contents. Yeah, she’s definitely fucking with him. He’s not quite sure how to handle _this_ Clarke, Teasing-Clarke. His first instinct is to press her into the side of the truck, giving her a taste of exactly what she’s doing to him. Then he remembers that he’s in public and decides that he definitely needs to get the bulge in his jeans under control. Priorities…

Bellamy breathes a sigh of relief when he sees her scoot as far as possible from the driver’s seat as she gets into the truck. Of course, his relief is short-lived because she spends the entire fucking trip to the new apartment pressing herself into him. He’s pretty sure his brain just stopped working because he can actually _feel_ the softness of her exquisite breasts as she brushes them against his arm. His heart starts to beat erratically when she envelops his arm between her mouthwatering tits, and he thinks, yeah this is how he’s going to die (Oh, but what a way to go…).

After a heated moment at the drive through, he spends the rest of the truck ride to the apartment contemplating how to handle Mercilessly-Sexy-Clarke. Because he’s gonna lose his goddamn mind if she keeps this shit up.

After pulling into the parking space closest to the door, he grabs a box and carries it into the apartment, only to be met by Raven, who raises an eyebrow, “Shit, Blake. You look like you walked through a fucking car wash!” Wick is leaning against the wall across from him and greets him with a wordless but amused nod of the head. If anyone should understand Bellamy’s plight, it’s Wick. The guy is hopelessly in love with a woman who deemed herself as lovable as barbed wire. It seems Wick’s incessant devotion to the prickly woman paid off eventually. She even lets him refer to her as his girlfriend, which is a big win for Wick.

Bellamy knows Raven isn’t as cold-hearted as she tries to appear. She’s a clear example of the fact that everyone reacts differently to having their heart ripped out and stomped on. He kind of regrets being Raven’s rebound-fuck, especially now that she and Clarke are close. He never would have predicted that the two of them would become friends, but he guesses there’s something to be said for the bond that forms when you’re fucked over by the same guy… So yeah, his regret isn’t personal. He just wishes he’d had the strength to say no when she told him, “Take off your clothes.” He wonders if that fucked things up with Clarke. He knows she was pissed about it when she found out, even if she vehemently denies caring at all.

Unsurprisingly, Raven is intuitive as fuck when it comes to his feelings for Clarke, and rarely passes up the opportunity to give him hell for it. Bellamy doesn’t reply to Raven’s barbs, just walks past her into Clarke’s room, where he sets the box down. He can hear Raven’s gratuitous laughter coming from the dining room and assumes Clarke just walked in. He makes his way back down the hall and sees Clarke desperately pleading with Raven to shut up.

See, Bellamy has tried in every possible way to make it obvious to Clarke that he’s fucking crazy about her (Everything short of actually saying it, of course). He hasn’t had a steady girlfriend in two years (They kept breaking up with him because they weren’t down with playing second fiddle to his sister’s best friend). He’s even stopped sleeping around, because the last girl he fucked got pretty upset when he told her in the heat of the moment that he couldn't wait to tangle his fingers through her blonde hair while he fucked the smirk right off her face (She was a brunette.). But that’s got nothing on the black eye he earned when he cried out Clarke’s name mid-orgasm with a woman who was most definitely _not_ Clarke.

Bellamy tries to do chivalrous shit, too, like opening doors for her and what not. Clarke just gives him confused looks and awkward thank-yous. Hell, he hits on her all the damn time. At first her responding glares were depressing, but then he realized he delights in getting a response of _any_ kind out of her, even if it _is_ wrath. So yeah, up until today, he was pretty sure that Clarke just wasn’t into him. Which, fine. He thinks he’ll probably get over it eventually. Because there’s no way she _doesn’t_ know how bad he wants her. There’s no way she’s _that_ oblivious, right? But then the drive-through happened, and he almost kissed her, and if he’s not mistaken, she was just as into it as he was. And now he just doesn’t fucking know.

He sees Clarke’s look of panic as he tells Raven in no uncertain terms to fuck off. When Clarke follows him out the door, tripping over her own feet in the process, he makes a decision. Bellamy has fully accepted the fact that he is a weak, weak man when it comes to Clarke Griffin. But he thinks it’s high time he’s figured out just how much _he_ can affect _her._

Bellamy’s strides come to a halt and he feels an undeniable sense of vindication when she barrels right into him. Her sputtered apology confirms his suspicions that she was too distracted by _him_ to pay attention to her surroundings. The realization sends his heart soaring, but he knows he can’t show his hand _just_ yet. So he plasters a cocky smirk on his face, stifling the beaming smile that he just _knows_ is threatening to grace his features. As he turns to face her, he experimentally brushes his hand along her bare thigh and revels in triumph when he sees her blown-out pupils. He’s pretty sure his face betrays his own arousal, but that’s fine with him, as long as he keeps drawing this delightful response out of ~~the~~ _his_ Princess (because she  _is_ his, and by the end of the day, she's gonna know that, too).  

Bellamy tucks one of her wild curls behind her ear and as he dips his head down, he reminds himself repeatedly that he can’t give in yet. Of course, the closer he gets to her pink lips, the harder it is to control himself… Her shallow breaths fan his face as he lingers, his lips just a hair’s breadth away from hers… He’s got her just where he wants her. He shares her disappointment when he skitters past her lips, but he knows it has to be done. He goes in for the kill as he lowers his voice, lips grazing the shell of her ear, _“Two can play this game, Princess.”_

(Bellamy has to make a concerted effort not to announce “Mic Drop!” like an asshole as he walks away from her, choosing instead to bask _silently_ in his victory like the mature person that he is.)

And that sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon… Bellamy makes his overtly sexual touches more purposeful, which throws Clarke for a loop the first few times. But the Princess gives as good as she gets. She “accidentally” falls against him (again), so he makes a point to squeeze her ass as he helps her regain her balance. She rests her (deliciously) heavy breasts on his shoulder while she reaches over him to grab something, so he makes sure to graze her inner thigh as he hands her the nails to hang the pictures on the wall. (It should be noted that he had to make a herculean effort to hide how unbelievably turned-on he was when Clarke glared at him as she said, “Fuck you, Bellamy. I can use a fucking hammer, now just hand me the goddamn nails.”)

To nobody’s surprise, Bellamy and Clarke don’t even notice that everyone else has stopped working. The two of them are so caught up in each other, they’re oblivious to their audience. The only thing missing is popcorn… All their friends are just watching the two of them engaging in this fucked-up foreplay (at least he hopes it’s foreplay, because _fuck_ …).

So when it comes to the teasing touches, they’re pretty evenly matched. All is well and good until Clarke starts making all these _sounds_. And oh god, the _noises_ that escape this woman are completely unfair. Just when he thinks he can’t take anymore, a gift arrives from the heavens in the form of poorly-taped box…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last T-rated chapter. It will go up to an M next chapter. (Who am I kidding, It's gonna be a hard "E")  
> I'm still writing it (along with my another strong-E chapter for my other fic), so have some patience so I can get it just right ;) 
> 
> If you haven't left KUDOS already, please do so!!! And REVIEWS feed my muse (and that's the closest I'll ever come to poetry, guys). 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Clarke (III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke realizes (gleefully) that when he isn't mercilessly teasing her, Bellamy is incredibly malleable to her will.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off: YOU GUYS ARE GREAT! Thank you for the lovely reviews ~ When I hear from you guys, it seriously makes my day. And because I want to hear more, I write more. You see how we all benefit? ;) 
> 
> Aaaanyway, here's the long-awaited E-rating... And "long-awaited" is clearly subjective, since you've only been waiting like four days. 
> 
> Enjoy and you're welcome ;)

The moving process has been simultaneously frustrating and enlightening. See, Clarke honestly had no idea Bellamy was so… flappable. And now that she knows it, well…

They spend the entire day pushing each other’s buttons and finding each other’s weak spots (oh, she has so many weaknesses for this man and it’s infuriating that he’s opening them all up). She comes to the realization that this competition of theirs is going to culminate in either a nuclear ending to a fragile friendship, or mind-blowing sex with the object of her most debauched fantasies. She really, _really_ hopes it’s the latter.

Clarke is sorting out boxes that are piled up in the living room, and Bellamy has taken it upon himself to deliver them to the proper destinations. She realizes (gleefully) that when he isn’t mercilessly teasing her, he’s incredibly malleable to her will.

Clarke hears a crash in the hallway, followed by a deafening silence. She thinks maybe he’s broken something priceless, so that’s why he’s being so quiet. She yells out, “What the fuck was that, Bellamy?” but gets nothing in response. So she gets up, huffing in irritation, to see what the fuck he ruined.

She sees his panicked face and looks down to see what dropped and _oh, no. NO, no, no,_ _no_ … Scattered down the hallway are Clarke’s favorite… _toys_. She rakes her eyes over the floor, cataloging each humiliating item that has tumbled into view… A neon-pink vibrator. A lifelike suction-mounted dildo (that she may or may not have named “Bellamy,” not that he needs to know that…). A purple rabbit vibrator. A silver-bullet vibrator and a vibrating egg. Oh god, an anal plug with pretty jewel on the end that she hasn’t experimented with, but was intrigued by when Monroe’s bachelorette party visited an adult toy store. And oooh, the leather handcuffs that she hasn’t gotten to use yet… Clarke shakes her head to remind herself, _No! no “ooohs” right now! You’re embarrassed…_ She’s trying to think of a way out of this, and is disappointed to find that she’s unable to find a solution that doesn’t involve killing herself and/or Bellamy.

Bellamy, for his part, is completely silent. She wants to say something snarky like, “Oh, so this is what it takes to make you shut up.” But her mouth isn’t working. Not when her gaze is locked into Bellamy’s like her life fucking depends on it. It seems like she forgot how to breathe, and she’s pretty sure the ringing in her ears is just a symptom of some sort of fatal reaction she’s having to the sheer humiliation of this moment. She takes some solace in the fact that Bellamy looks as rattled as she feels.

Suddenly his gaze becomes voracious and fuck if that sentiment isn’t reflected in her own eyes. She’s breathing again. Sort of. Air is reaching her lungs in short, shallow pants but she’s not sure how effectively oxygen is being transported to her brain right now. She’s pleased to see that Bellamy is experiencing similar difficulties with his diaphragm. (More evidence that she’s not the only one who is severely affected by… this _._ Good.).

Both she and Bellamy are coiled like predators watching their prey. Neither of them moves a damn muscle. Clarke never truly understood the expression “tension so thick you could cut it with a knife” until this exact moment. Holy _fuck,_ she understands it. Clarke studies Bellamy, considers the salacious glint in his eyes as they bore into her. Needing almost no time to come to a decision, she orders, “Everybody _out_!”

Her eyes don’t leave Bellamy’s as she loudly demands that their friends vacate the premises. Really, it’s for their own good, because she’s pretty sure they don’t want to witness what’s about to happen. She feels a jolt of confidence when Bellamy gives a barely perceptible nod of his head. His darkened gaze provokes unmistakable feelings of lust, and she’s not sure how long she can hold out. With each passing moment, her concern for her friends’ potential emotional scars diminishes.

Raven rounds the corner to see what’s going on, only to be met with Bellamy’s menacing voice, _“EVERYBODY. OUT. NOW.”_

Raven quickly realizes what’s going on and spins on her heel, announcing _“Everybody get the fuck out of here, now.”_ Octavia is out the door, dragging an amused Lincoln behind her, before Raven even finishes the sentence. Wick sounds confused as Raven exasperatedly tugs him along, grumbling something that sounds a lot like _“about fucking time_.”

As soon as she hears the front door slam shut, Bellamy is on her, crowding in on her until her back hits the wall. The predatory glint in his eyes fills her with need and she can almost _taste_ the longing in the air between them. Just like the drive-through, just like the apartment hallway earlier, his lips linger over hers, almost but not quite touching… His eye contact is unceasing, and her body nearly vibrates with greed. This time she knows he really _is_ waiting for her make the final choice. He’s giving her one last chance to back out.

Clarke closes her eyes and savors these last moments before everything changes. Because she knows that _nothing_ is going to be the same after this.  Her decision was made long before this game started, so she tilts her chin and cautiously captures his bottom lip between her own. When he doesn’t move, she panics, thinking she just made a huge mistake and somehow misread the whole situation. But _was_ there any other way to read it? Relief floods her body when she feels the corners of his lips quirk up in a grin before he reciprocates with mind-blowing ferocity, reminding her that this – _Bellamy_ – will be nothing short of earth-shattering.

Clarke has thought about kissing Bellamy before. A lot. She’s had detailed fantasies about how his soft lips would feel against hers. She knows now that her imagination fell tragically short of the reality, and _oh god_ … He kisses her like _this_ is the main event, with single-minded determination that just might ignite her soul. His large hands come up to frame her face and he draws her deeper into this devastating kiss as she’s pulled into the hurricane that is Bellamy Blake. She wonders how she can feel so much passion between them when they haven’t even deepened the kiss beyond something that’s practically… chaste.

Goosebumps erupt over her entire body and she registers that his hands are wandering deliciously over her body, making short work of the too-tight tank top. With her top gone, only her bra stands between his hands and her bounteous assets so he roughly yanks the cups of her bra down, freeing her breasts so he can knead the supple flesh with his strong fingers.

Bellamy groans against her lips, “Clarke, your tits are fucking amazing.” His words make her a little bit light-headed with desire. When he brushes his thumbs over her sensitive nipples, her mouth opens in an indulgent gasp and his tongue slips past her parted lips. She thanks the heavens that she accepted the breath mints Octavia offered her earlier, and judging by the minty taste of his mouth, he took the same offer. She feels utterly consumed by him, lost in his taste, mesmerized by the tantalizing way his fingers are playing her.

They come up for air and Clarke mourns the absence of his succulent lips on hers until he attaches them to the sensitive skin on her neck, and _oh, that…_ that’s _good_. She can feel his smug grin against her skin as he kisses a line down to her shoulder, taking her bra strap between his teeth and roughly dragging it down over her arm.

“Hey, be nice to my bra!” she admonishes.

He huffs a laugh as his hands snake around her back to deftly unhook the black lacy garment.

Clarke thinks _good god, his hands are nimble._

Bellamy’s voice drips like honey on her skin, “Oh, Princess… You have no idea.” Clarke guesses she must have said that out loud, but can’t bring herself to feel any embarrassment about her traitorous mouth. Not when she’s about to be the recipient of Bellamy’s nimble hands… She desperately wants to become acquainted with his nimble mouth, and nimble tongue, and- “Clarke, I can’t fucking _wait_ to have my tongue in you… I’m gonna fuck you with it until you can’t see straight… I’m gonna taste you while you come undone on my mouth.” _Of course_ he’s gifted at talking dirty… His vulgar words send her mind to very indecent places. She bites her fist to keep her lips from betraying her further and Bellamy huffs a laugh against the skin between her breasts. He stands back up and pulls her hand away from her mouth, pinning it against the wall above her head. He shakes his head with a smirk, “Nuh uh, I wanna hear you.” Her body is on _fire_ as he brings her other hand over her head and crosses one wrist over the other, holding them firmly in one fist.

Bellamy kicks her feet apart and his free hand slips under the waistband of the too-short shorts. She is completely unable to control the sounds that escape her when his skilled fingers find their way between her folds. With his mouth doing terrible, corrupt things to the sensitive spot behind her ear, his hand explores her pussy, caressing her sensitive outer lips, dipping teasingly into her slit as he strokes everything _but_ her throbbing clit. She wishes her hands were free so she could pull his hair or scratch his skin, release her frustrations on his body until he gives her what she needs. She thinks this is probably why he’s restrained her.

She growls with irritation, “Goddammit Bellamy, stop teasing me!”

He responds with tantalizing nips at her earlobe and a wicked laugh, “So demanding…”

Clarke rolls her eyes and thrusts her hips forward, trying to _make_ his fingers go where she wants them. He shakes his head again in admonishment and pulls his hands out of her shorts (asshole). She’s pissed at his denial of her pleasure, but then her whole body shivers with irrefutable arousal when he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, licking and sucking her arousal off of them, not once breaking eye contact. He lets go of her hands and she brings them to Bellamy’s wrists. With a challenging glare, she guides his hands to her ass and he immediately picks up the hint, supporting her weight as she jumps up and wraps her legs around his hips as he pins her against the wall.

He chuckles at her exasperation, “Patience…”

Clarke, of course, scowls at this suggestion and rolls her hips against his in response. She grinds her heat onto his already-hard cock, grinning like a Cheshire cat when his whole body tenses up in undeniable pleasure. She chuckles, “Patience, huh?”

Bellamy growls, “ _Shut._ _Up_. _Clarke._ ” as he pulls her hips a few inches away from the wall then shoves her _hard_ back into it, grinning at the surprised squeak that escapes her. Clarke feels a surge of wetness from her core and files that reaction away for future analysis.

Clarke cards her fingers into his hair and pulls _hard_ in response before she crushes her mouth into his again. Bellamy leaves her lips again to suck bruising kisses into the long line of her neck as he pins her harder into the wall and she thinks she should be angry at his rough treatment, but _fuck_ if it isn’t igniting something raw inside of her. It feels _right._ Then it becomes clear. He’s not angry. He’s not being mean. He’s not even releasing pent-up frustration. Her heart flutters something crazy as she realizes that this is Bellamy giving her exactly what she didn’t realize she absolutely _needs_.

Because she’s been so goddamn tired of being treated like she’s about to break. Every partner she’s had since her father died has treated her like porcelain, ready to shatter at any moment. She remembers how each gentle touch felt like contempt for her hard-earned self-confidence. A fragile girl, a “delicate flower” was what they wanted, and when she got tired of playing the part she called it quits. They couldn’t handle a woman with sharp edges guarding her soul. But Bellamy... Bellamy isn’t afraid of her anger. He isn’t going to be run off by her antagonism. (Hell, if that was a problem he would have given up years ago…). He’s not scared to peel away her layers of repressed resentment to get to the core of who she is. She wants to be _loved_ , she wants to _love,_ and she’s pretty sure that if anyone can fit that bill, it’s Bellamy.

With every abrasive touch, Bellamy tells her _she’s not too much for him to handle._ He makes her feel _complete_ and this realization makes her want to cry. In his hands, she feels _alive_ for the first time and in just a few short minutes, he’s already opened up parts of her soul she didn’t know existed. He’s unleashed a carnal need that’s been eating her from the inside out for _years_.

She ~~wants~~ _needs_ more of his ruthless ferocity, so she eggs him on and spits out, “Fuck you, Bellamy.”

He laughs, completely unaffected by the heat in her voice, “Count on it, Princess.” Clarke smiles broadly in approval of the new and improved usage of that dreadful nickname. Her grin stands in stark contrast to her wrath just seconds ago, telling him wordlessly that yeah, he’s giving her what she needs, that she understands what he’s doing. He returns her smile with a beaming one of his own.

And just like that, the aggression and fury that lingered in the air dissipates, replaced by an overwhelming sense of longing and unbridled lust as Bellamy attaches himself again to her neck. As much as Clarke needs him inside of her, she doesn’t want to fuck him in the hallway. It takes tremendous effort to break contact, but she places her hands on his broad shoulders and pushes him away. He pulls his face back, confused and concerned. She sees his mind reeling, knows he’s worried she changed her mind. So she rests a hand on his cheek, stroking reassuringly with her thumb. She smiles, “I don’t want our first time to be against a wall.”

He huffs a relieved laugh and nods, “So… bedroom?”

She nods with a warm chuckle, “We can make it there, I think.”

Bellamy readjusts his hands under her ass as she wraps her arms around his neck and locks her ankles behind him, clinging to him like the floor is on fire. She grinds her pelvis against him and revels in the wanton groan she elicits from him. She’s sincerely looking forward to getting his pants off of him, because _fuck,_ she needs to see this for herself. He feels  _huge._ _  
_

Clarke chuckles at Bellamy’s enthusiasm as he carries her toward her bedroom. Her laughs are all but silenced when he fists his hand into her hair and pulls her in for a searing kiss. Clarke lets a curious hand travel from his neck down to his flexed upper arm and gleefully squeezes his bulky arm muscles. A spontaneous moan escapes her mouth as she feels them flex under her fingers. Yeah, she knows, she’s kind of a little bit obsessed with his arms. Sue her… They’re her favorite part of him. Although, she might have to update her “Favorite Body Parts on Bellamy Blake” list now that she’s had a taste of what his fingers are capable of. Not that she _has_ a list like that… And if she did, that’s her business.

“God, you’re so strong…” (Clarke doesn’t mean for that to sound _quite_ so desperate). Bellamy laughs good-naturedly at her appraisal. She glances at his face to see a smug but well-deserved smirk cross his features. “Seriously, I’m heavy! How are your arms not _dying_ right now?”

Bellamy looks her in the eye, “You’re perfect.” She feels her chest tighten at the sincerity of his words.

The short trip to Clarke’s bedroom takes far longer than it should, mainly because Bellamy is very easily distracted. Clarke knows she isn’t helping his focus when she nibbles lightly on the shell of his ear while moaning shamelessly. She’s not doing it on purpose, she swears. (Yes, she definitely is). But she certainly doesn’t complain when he stops to push her into the nearest wall, and she _definitely_ doesn’t mind when he greedily devours the sensitive flesh of her neck.

When they finally arrive at Clarke’s door, she laughs at Bellamy’s impatient huffs as he fumbles with the handle. After a few seconds of his frustrated grumbling, Clarke takes mercy and reaches behind to open the door for him.

Bellamy makes a noise that sounds like something between a sigh and a growl, “Fucking finally…” He unceremoniously deposits her onto her mattress and she yelps in surprise, then laughs as she bounces on impact. But then she sees Bellamy’s licentious gaze and forgets why she was laughing at all. Clarke stretches back on the mattress, writhing with delight under his vulgar stare. She’s pleased with herself for having the forethought to make her bed this afternoon. (She may or may not have counted on this happening).

“God, you’re fucking beautiful.” The way Bellamy says it makes her actually believe it. Okay, she knows she’s attractive, but hearing those words from Bellamy make her feel it on a whole new level. Clarke feels the heat rise on her face and neck, reminding her that she’s terrible at accepting compliments.  

 _Shit, this is happening_.

Bellamy descends onto the bed and lies down next to her, somehow hovering halfway on top of her. He leans on his elbow while his free hand gets to work, playing her body like a damn fiddle… She instinctively spreads her legs as she feels his fingers travel between her thighs, gasping as he presses them against the sopping fabric of the too-short shorts. Her face blushes a furious shade of red when she realizes that she can _hear_ her arousal through two layers of clothing. Bellamy buries his face into her neck, cursing under his breath, “Fuck… You’re so fucking wet for me, Clarke.” He rises to his knees grips the waistband of the too-short shorts and tugs at them impatiently, so she lifts her hips, amused at his eagerness, and he slides her shorts and underwear down her smooth thighs.

Clarke asks, her voice already getting raspy, “Why are you still wearing clothes?” She feels unfairly vulnerable, being completely naked while he’s still fully clothed.

Bellamy smirks, “You’re free to undress me if you want me naked so bad.” Clarke makes a growling noise as she scrambles to her feet in front of him. He laughs, “Wow, that was quick.”  

Clarke laughs, then looks him in the eye with a shy smile, “You get to see me. Now I want to see you.” Although she stood up in a hurry, she takes her time undressing him. He lifts his arms and starts to pull his T-shirt off that way guys do, but Clarke pulls down on his arms with a shake of her head. “Let me.” He nods, shivering as she glides her hands under his shirt and rakes her fingernails along his toned abdomen. She gathers the material of his shirt in her hands as they slowly travel up his torso, marveling at his body as it is exposed. He lifts his arms again and smiles as she stands on her tip toes to get the shirt over his head. With his torso fully exposed, she takes time to admire it with her hands and lips. She takes note of the spots that make him shiver, and wonders if he’ll react the same way if she licks those spots. Then she remembers that that’s something she can totally do…

He grabs onto her hips and pulls them into his and she feels his hard cock bumping her abdomen, so she takes the hint and unfastens his belt and pants. As she unzips his jeans, she makes sure to rub her palm over his erect cock, reveling in the loud groan he doesn’t hold back. She slips her hands underneath the waistband of his boxer briefs, taking her time as she pushes them down so he can kick them down. She gasps in awed surprise as his erection springs free and takes the opportunity to trail her shaking fingers from base to tip.

“ _Fuck…”_ The word falls from her lips as she drops to her knees in front of him. Realizing she doesn’t need to be tentative, she wraps her hand around his shaft, running her thumb over the head to pick up the precum that seeps out the tip. She looks up at him when he lifts his head and smiles gently when she sees his darkened eyes beholding her through hooded lids. His mouth drops open as she brings her thumb to her lips, tasting the salty fluid gathered there.

"Fuck, C'mere... Get up here."

He groans shamelessly as he pulls her back up to her feet, and his lips are on hers in an instant. She feels her entire body heat up as she opens her mouth to him, granting his tongue entrance. Their tongues battle for dominance as he bends her back down onto the bed. They break apart and she scoots backward toward the pillows, expecting him to follow, confused when he’s still kneeling on the edge of the mattress. She furrows her brows in question.

He smirks, “What did you call it again? Nimble tongue?”

Clarke sighs shakily, “Oh my god…” She shivers as her mind is flooded with memories of her depraved dreams, Imaginary-Bellamy’s head buried between her legs. Only now, this isn’t imaginary. And _oh holy shit, this is happening, he’s gonna eat me out…_

Bellamy gives her a wolfish grin as he crawls up toward her. She parts her ankles but keeps her knees closed, inexplicably nervous now that this isn’t a dream…

His face softens as he rests his hands on her raised knees “Trust me?”

Clarke nods, “Of course. Yeah…” She’s taken aback for a second when she realizes how true that statement is.

He smiles, “Then relax for me… Tell me if you get uncomfortable, yeah?”

Clarke gives him nervous smile, “Yeah. Okay.” She leans back on the pillows and there are a _lot_ of pillows… She’s about to remove some of them but Bellamy stops her.

He shakes his head, “No. I want to look at your face when you come… And I want you to see me while my tongue is inside of you… Clarke, you won’t remember anyone else’s face down here after I’m done with you…”

Clarke shivers with a slow nod of her head, about to fucking _melt_ into a pool of lust. He brushes his fingers along the insides of her calves, wrapping his large hands around her knees when he reaches them. He gently parts her legs until the outsides of her thighs fall flat on the mattress. She groans loudly when she sees his face, eyes glued to her exposed pussy. He smirks and looks back up at her, “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Clarke just stares at him with a dazed expression, “It feels like your _eyes_ are touching me.”

He smiles, “Just wait…”

Clarke nods and bites her lip nervously as he lays gentle kisses along her inner thigh, slowly (torturously) making his way toward her heat. Her breathing picks up as he laves his tongue in the hollow of her hip. Just when she thinks he’s going to move to her cunt, he bypasses her pleasure zone completely, indulging himself with biting kisses over her pubic bone. Her breath hitches when he dips his tongue into her belly button, and as he licks strong circles and patterns along her abdomen, she gasps with the realization that this tongue will soon be _inside_ of her. He brings his hands up to play with her breasts, squeezing and fondling them while he hovers his body over hers. He kisses his way up her torso, taking his time getting to her tits. (Wait, did she really just refer to her own breasts as ‘tits?’ God, this man’s vocabulary is rubbing off in the most lewd ways). She groans in frustration when he neglects her nipples on his way up, bypassing yet another pleasure zone. She’s almost wondering if maybe he _doesn’t_ know what he’s doing. Then she looks at the wicked smirk on his face and nope, he knows _exactly_ what he’s doing.

Bellamy beautiful face hovers over hers now, and fuck it, she just wants him inside of her. So she swings a leg over his ass and tries to pull him down on top of her. As strong as her thigh muscles are (and she knows they’re strong), she’s got nothing on Bellamy’s strength. He just laughs in her ear as he sucks her earlobe into his mouth, provoking a delicious full-body shiver out of her. He grazes his teeth over the shell of her ear then makes his way back down her body again. She yelps in surprise when he nips on her collarbone but moans with satisfaction when he soothes the bite with his lithe tongue. He travels down again and sucks gentle kisses onto her oh-so-responsive tits and she thinks to herself _, please, please don’t ignore my—…_ As if he can read her mind, he draws an aching nipple into his mouth and sucks with the perfect amount of pressure to extract a lecherous cry out of her. Every tug is sending delicious jolts of pleasure to her throbbing clit and _oh god, this is good…_

Clarke wants to be pissed at how well Bellamy can play her body. Is she really that predictable?

Bellamy releases her nipple and chuckles, “Predictable? No way… I’ve only just  _started_ learning you, Clarke.” He smiles sweetly and her irritation vanishes with the sincerity of his voice.

She huffs a laugh, “This thinking-out-loud shit has _got_ to stop…”

Bellamy laughs with her as he switches his attention to her other breast, and she decides she doesn’t care anymore if her traitorous lips keep voicing her thoughts, especially if his reactions are this heated. Her head is swimming with want as he makes his way back down to her pussy.  Then he stops everything for a second, like he's trying to gain his bearings or something.  After a moment, he scoots his body down and snakes his arms under her thighs to hook her legs over his shoulders. With his thumbs, he spreads her open, licking his lips as his eyes feast on her glistening cunt. He gives her one last questioning look and she’s barely finished nodding when he drives his tongue deep inside of her. Her eyes have trouble maintaining focus as he locks his gaze onto hers, writhing his strong tongue around to stroke her inner walls. He closes his eyes, savoring her flavor (which, what? She never thought about him liking her taste so much, but oh god, it’s erotic). She lets her head fall back onto the pillows behind her and closes her eyes while her body is thrumming with pleasure. Her nerves spark with electricity, every twist of his strong muscle sending her into a state of lustful oblivion.

And then… _t_ _hen_ he closes his lips over her throbbing clit and the noise that escapes her is thoroughly animalistic, “Oh _GOD!”_ He draws her tender bundle of nerves into his mouth, gently but oh-so-effectively sucking, and she can’t fucking see straight. Her hips buck up into his mouth but he holds her down with a gentle forearm. She can’t figure out what to do with her hands, so she grips onto the arm that’s holding her down. She doesn’t realize she’s scratching her nails so hard into his skin until he hisses against her. She relaxes her hands, soothing the crescent-shaped indents with her gentle fingers, “Sorry.”

He smiles gently, then interlaces his fingers through hers. He brings his other arm back out from under her legs and spreads her thighs even wider. He pulls her clit back into his mouth, tugging at it with gentle shakes of his head and _holy fuck this is the best thing she’s ever felt ever in her entire life_. That is, until he slips a finger inside of her, still pulling and playing with her clit in his mouth. Pleased with her throaty whines, he adds a second finger, crooking it against that spongy cluster of nerves deep inside of her, and that – _that’s_ the most incredible fucking thing she’s ever experienced. Her mind is void of all thoughts except Bellamy, watching her with his penetrating gaze while he’s doing filthy, unspeakable, exhilarating things to her body.

Her orgasm is rising inside of her quickly and Bellamy can feel it so he slows down, and she’d kick him for it if she was capable. He switches it up, plunging his tongue into her while he lightly rolls her clit between his fingers. And after _that_ has her writhing beneath him, he changes tactics again, trapping her clit between gentle teeth while he flicks it softly with the tip of his tongue.  Then he holds her open with his fingers so he can lick her deeply and she thinks _oh fuck, that's her favorite_ …  It becomes a drawn-out, torturous game of building her up and slowing back down, a rising ebb and flow until she’s so wanton with need she feels tears in her eyes. He sucks her clit into his mouth, gently stroking it with his tongue while his fingers undo her from the inside, and just when she thinks she can’t take anymore, he _growls_ , the deep sound reverberating through her entire body and she finally, _finally_ comes undone, panting beneath him in ecstasy.

Clarke isn’t sure how long it takes her to regain coherence, but when she finally opens her eyes again, Bellamy face is above hers. She swears she can feel his eyes peel into her soul, and it would terrify her if it wasn’t Bellamy. He tucks a curl behind her ear and smiles as he takes her top lip between his own, drawing it into his mouth then soothing it with his velvety tongue (Because _of course_ his tongue-related talents aren’t limited to oral sex…). She parts her lips, inviting him into her mouth and reels back slightly at the taste of herself before embracing the fact that, yeah, it’s pretty fucking hot.

And then they just stay there, wrapped up and unhurriedly exploring each other’s mouths, and she’s completely captivated in the very best way by Bellamy Blake.

He finally breaks away and lifts himself up on his elbows, supporting his weight with his forearms. His eyes pore over her and he brings his hand up to stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You’re fucking beautiful.”

Clarke knows the smile on her face reflects the serenity she feels in her soul. “You’re fucking incredible.”

Bellamy laughs, “Why did we wait so long to do this?”

Clarke narrows her eyes playfully, “I’m gonna go ahead and blame you, because I’ve fantasized about this for years.” 

He shakes his head, “Are we complete idiots?”

She nods, “I’m pretty sure everyone knew but us. So yeah, we’re complete idiots.”

She sighs in content as she wraps her legs around his. He rocks himself against her and she gasps when she feels how incredibly hard he is. She groans, “Oh my _god_ …”

A smug smirk stretches across his lips, “I usually go by Bellamy, but whatever works…”

She smacks at his chest with a laugh, “Only you would think of yourself as a sex god.”

He shrugs, “You said it, not me.”

Clarke thinks about it a second, “Yeah, fine. You’re a fucking sex god… “ She wiggles underneath him, drawing a groan out of him, “And you’re hard as fucking steel.”

She shivers at Bellamy's graveled voice, “You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?”

She’s dazed when she sees the desire pooled in his eyes. “A girl can dream…”

Bellamy laughs, “Oh, I’m just getting started, Princess.”

Clarke thinks yeah, she could definitely get used to “Princess” if he keeps saying it like that...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was just Bellamy going down on Clarke.  
> And, because it's me writing, there's no way we're all done here... It was just going to be one smut chapter to end it all, but after I hit 5K words of just Bellamy eating her out, I figured I'd break it up so I could switch to Bellamy's POV as the scene continues next chapter ;) 
> 
> I guess this is part one of I don't know how many smut chapters. Because seriously, Bellamy is sex on legs for Clarke, and after so many years of denial I think they'll have plenty of vulgar things to do to each other (fluffy things, too, I'm sure). But, I won't neglect my other fic (It's my baby, also a strong-E-rated exercise in debauchery), so I can't be promising chapter-a-day updates for either one... Looking more like weekly updates I hope? 
> 
> REVIEWS give me life (Because I'm pathetic like that). Seriously, though. I love hearing what you guys think. Thoughts? Favorite lines? Requests? (I love requests!) Tell me you love it? Or hate it? (Actually don't tell me that. I take these way too seriously.) 
> 
> Also, if you haven't left KUDOS, please do so! (If you're enjoying this, of course) 
> 
> Last, but certainly not least, thank you guys so very much for reading!


	6. Bellamy (III)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke Griffin is one of the smartest people he knows, so her obliviousness to his pathetic infatuation with her is truly mind-boggling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! You guys are awesome! I'm so thankful for all of your great reviews - please keep them coming!!! I'm really happy with the response this fic has gotten so far, so thank you, readers! 
> 
> This chapter ended up being a lot of smuff, but I liked how it turned out (and I hope you will, too).

Bellamy isn’t completely convinced that this isn’t just a vivid dream. His mind goes blank as he takes in the incredible sight in front of him. He finally, _finally_ gets to see the curves that have haunted him for years.

He finds that for all her self-confidence, Vulnerable-Clarke is a thing of beauty. In his (many, many) fantasies, Clarke is a ball-buster. He fully expects for her to be criticizing his technique and ordering him around. Really, her bossy demeanor in the hallway is right in line with his expectations. So when she closes her knees shut and she hides herself from him, he’s a little taken aback. He knows a lot of her sexual experience is with women, and as far as he knows, being eaten out is like, the main staple of girl-on-girl sex. Or maybe it’s not. He should check on that, but he thinks now would not be a good time to ask.

So yeah, the shy thing is unexpected. He takes a slow approach, suddenly worried she’ll bolt if startled. He finds out quickly that she responds best when talked to, and that’s something he can _definitely_ work with. And just like that, she’s back into it. He explores her with his hands, his mouth, his tongue... He revels in each and every little mewl he draws from her body, lingers on the spots that have her keening.  And _fuck,_ the noises she makes…

When Clarke comes, she doesn’t hold anything back, and she _sounds, looks, feels_ so beautiful he almost forgets what he’s doing. When she stops trembling, Bellamy crawls up her body, admires the twitches of her skin when he gently brushes it with his fingers, smiles at the goosebumps that take form in their wake. He commits to memory the feel of her soft skin under his hands. Bellamy studies her face, trails his fingers over her soft features, memorizing what she looks like in this moment. He’s never seen her look this _content_ before and he tries to suppress a surge of arrogance knowing he made her this way. He feels a sudden wave of disappointment when he thinks that this may be his only chance to see her this way. A large part of him worries that this might be a one-time deal for her. That she’ll get him out of her system and move on. If that’s the case, he’ll take as much of her as he can get. Make every bit count, right?

She opens her eyes and he’s floored by their depths. Yeah, he’s kind of always stunned by her, but this time it’s different. She’s opened and bared herself to him, but he can see the anxiety building inside of her the longer she feels exposed like this. He desperately wants those walls of hers to stay down for him, wants her to let him in, but he’s worried that whatever he says will scare her away. So he sweeps a stray hair out of her face and _shows_ her she’s safe. He takes her lips with his (which has the added benefit of keeping his mouth busy so he can’t say stupid shit like ‘I love you’ or some other sentiment that will have her running for the hills). Because _fuck_ he wants this. He wants her. And at this point, he’s pretty sure that “want” has become _need._

Bellamy kisses her slowly and gently. She hesitates at first, but he’s insistent, and it doesn’t take long for her to respond with enthusiasm. The atmosphere shifts and he feels her unease dissipate. He can see a peace in her that he hopes has something to do with him.

“You’re fucking beautiful.” He thinks maybe he should’ve come up with something better than that, but then she’s smiling at him like he hung the fucking moon, so he thinks yeah, that’ll work for now. Then she tells him he’s “fucking incredible” and it makes his chest squeeze a little, so he laughs to cover up the choked sound he’s sure is begging to leave his throat. He’s shocked to shit to learn that she’s been wanting this for years. Clarke Griffin is one of the smartest people he knows, so her obliviousness to his pathetic infatuation with her is truly mind-boggling. They tease each other and a sense of normalcy returns in their familiar banter. In Bellamy’s opinion, the playful shift in mood is a welcome one because playful easily becomes sensual. She wraps her legs around his calves, teasingly dragging one of her feet along. If she’s hoping to get a reaction out of him, she’s succeeding. He responds with a rock of his hips, and when she deliberately squirms underneath him, a jolt of arousal shoots from his core to his fingertips.

Bellamy delights in the way her eyes darken when he tells her, “I’m just getting started, Princess.” He’s already found his favorite spot on Clarke (besides the obvious ones). It’s just below her earlobe and her breath hitches when he laves his tongue over it _just_ right, so he makes it a point to mark it as _his_ every chance he can get. He thinks she’s probably gonna be pissed when she sees it and she’ll rip him a new one for his caveman behavior, but he just _can’t_ ignore the opportunity to lay claim to her body in some way.

“I’ve wanted you…” He tangles a hand in her hair so he can see his mark better, pleased with the way its vibrant color pops against the pale flesh of her neck. “I’ve wanted you… for so long, Clarke.”

She releases a shuddering moan. “Then _show me_ , Bellamy.” He thinks he might never get tired of hearing her say his name. But he’s pretty sure he’ll like it even more if he can make her scream it. She pulls his face back down to hers and captures his lips in a searing kiss. She pushes his face away again and looks him in the eyes and demands again, “Show me.” He intends to spend the rest of the night doing exactly that. He peppers gentle kisses on her face, lets his hands and eyes explore the soft curves of her body, revels in her wanton sighs…

“ _Bellamy_ ,” she whines, “I need you…”

He huffs a laugh as he kisses her forehead, “What if I wanna look at you some more?”

If a facial expression could _growl,_ that’s what Clarke’s would be doing. “You can look later…” She bucks her hips up, gasping when the head of his cock grazes her clit, “ _After_ you fuck me…”

Bellamy shakes his head with an amused grin, “God, you’re bossy.”

She responds with a raised eyebrow and another upward thrust of her hips, “And that surprises you?”

He rises off of her, rolling his eyes with a smirk, “Not even a little bit, Princess.”

He bends down and reaches to grab his jeans off the floor. He fishes his wallet out of the pocket and opens it up to retrieve the emergency condom he keeps in there. It’s gone, replaced by a folded-up note:

_“I.O.U. one condom  –O.”_

On one hand, he’s proud of his little sister for practicing safe sex. On the other hand, he’s appalled that his little sister is _having_ sex. And for as much as she busts his balls about Clarke, she sure did a bang-up job of cock-blocking him…

“The fuck are you doing over there, Bellamy?”

He holds the loathsome piece of paper between his index and middle fingers and hands it over to Clarke. She reads it and breaks out in uncontrollable laughter, “Oh my god, this is  _poetic._ ”

Bellamy tries to stay irritated, but her laugh is contagious. Still, he wants to know, “Exactly how the hell does this qualify as _poetic?_ ”

Clarke shakes her head, “Remember that week when you stayed on our couch while they fixed the plumbing in your apartment?”

Bellamy nods, “Yeah. What does that have to do with anything?”

Clarke grins. “Well, one day, she ran out of condoms so she asked me for some, but I didn’t have any, so I told her to go raid your wallet because you were in the shower and wouldn’t notice…” After her cackling dies down, she shakes her head and haphazardly tosses the piece of paper off to the side. “I’m on birth control and I’m clean. When were you last tested?”

Bellamy feels his brows furrow, “Six months ago.”

“Clean?”

He nods, “As a whistle.”

“Okay, and how many partners since then?”

He rolls his eyes, “None. But I've never _not_ used a condom in my life."  He groans,  "You’re killing me with the questions, Princess.”

Clarke gawks, her mouth dropped open in disbelief, “Bellamy Blake going six months without sex?!” He doesn’t correct her, keeping to himself the fact that it’s been much longer than six months.

Bellamy half-teases, half-laments, “Laugh it up. This is on you, Princess.”

She recoils slightly, confusion etched on her face, “Me? How is it my fault?”

He sighs, slightly annoyed that he’s having to think about this right now, “Because nobody else is _you_ , Clarke… And you being on my mind while I’m fucking someone else has proven to be… hazardous.”

She frowns, stunned, “I was on your mind?”

Bellamy nods with an unconvinced laugh, “I find it hard to believe O didn’t tell you about this.”

“Tell me about what?”

He sighs, “Remember the black eye?”

She gives him a sidelong glance, “Uh, the one you got for hitting on some guy’s girlfriend in front of him?”

Bellamy shakes his head, “That’s not exactly what happened.” He stares fixedly at a spot on the ceiling, “I may have called someone by your name while fucking her. She was… displeased.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything at first. She just opens her mouth and closes it a few times before finally asking, “How long?”

He furrows his brows, “How long what?”

Her frown is disconcerting. “How long have I been a… problem for you?”

He scoffs, “You’re not a ‘problem,’ Clarke. But if you’re asking how long I’ve been hopelessly hooked on you…”

Bellamy doesn’t finish the sentence, so Clarke asks again as she turns toward the side of her bed and pulls her knees up to her chest to wrap her arms around them, “How. Long?” He hates that she’s physically shutting him out now and he’s at a loss for what to do about it.

“Long.” She raises an eyebrow, clearly wanting a better answer, so he mumbles under his breath, “O’s senior prom.”

“So we’ve wasted what, seven years pining after each other?”

Bellamy’s eyes dart to hers, not quite believing what he’s hearing. “What?”

Her voice is barely audible, “Well, seven years for you. More like _ten_ for me…” She looks down, absentmindedly picking at her comforter and huffs, “So if we’re in a contest for who has been ‘hopelessly hooked’ longer… I win.”

Bellamy shakes his head with a sardonic laugh, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Complete fucking idiots…”

Clarke is uncharacteristically quiet so he looks back up at her and sees her blinking back tears. He brings a thumb up to catch one that escapes when she closes her eyes. Her voice is shakes, “I fucked this up, didn’t I? The moment’s gone.” She sniffs again and Bellamy is honestly confused. He cups the back of her neck, turns her to face him and shakes his head, lost for words. Clarke squeezes her eyes shut harder and huffs, “Yeah, it’s rui-”

He cuts her off, pulling her face to his and crushing their lips together in a bruising kiss. She chokes out a sob, but he finds relief when she meets his force with desperate intensity. He brings his other hand to her cup her face in a frantic attempt to physically ground her in this moment. He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against hers, trying like hell to pull her out of her own mind. Because yeah, he needs her like he needs oxygen.

“Clarke…” He strokes her cheeks with his thumbs, “You’re fucking perfect, okay?” He pulls back so he can see her face because he needs her to believe him. Her eyes are still closed and her trembling lips are shaped into a heartbreaking curve. “Look at me, Clarke. Please.” After a deep breath she opens her eyes back up. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

She wipes her tears away, “What if-” She starts again, “What if seven years was for nothing?”

Bellamy frowns, “What does that mean?” He feels some of that panic returning, that he’s a distraction for her, that he’s just something she needs to get out of her system.

“What if we’re not… compatible?” Okay, she said ‘compatible’ which implies long-term considerations, so that’s a step in the right direction. But he needs her to _not_ write this off before he has a chance to prove to her just how compatible they can be… She sighs, “What if the sex is bad, and we’ve been wanting each other for so long, only to be disappointed?”

He gives her a meaningful look, “Then we try again, Clarke. We keep trying until we get it right. Okay?”

Her eyes meet his with startling intensity and she nods. “Okay…” He watches with admiration as her demeanor transforms from timid to poised. She nods again, self-assured. “Okay.”

Bellamy feels a smile stretch across his face when she lets her knees fall back down and draws him close to her. She pulls him back over her so he’s nestled between her opened legs, and he’s beyond pleased that she’s come back to him. “Are we good?”

She nods before she draws him into a warm, deep kiss. “We don’t need a condom – I’m covered and we’re both clean. I want _you,_ and _just_ you inside of me.” He's kind of freaking out inside because he's never had sex without protection.  Not that he thinks he'd _need_ protection with Clarke. It's just... momentous somehow. He’s pretty sure she can feel his thundering heartbeat in his chest when she places her palm over it, but takes solace in the fact that hers is beating just as wild. He groans when she reaches between them, wrapping her small hand around his shaft and guiding him to her (thankfully still very wet) entrance. He rocks against her, sliding his cock against her clit, coating himself in her arousal. She shifts her hips like she’s trying to catch him. He would chuckle at her eagerness if he wasn’t still worried about her bolting.

She moans, “Bell, stop teasing and _fuck_ me.”

Bellamy nods with a wolfish smile as he finally begins to push into her. He tries to go slow, but she impatiently thrusts her hips against him, sheathing him just barely inside of her before she cries out. And it’s not a good cry. It’s a pained cry. Like, the _bad_ kind of pain.

He pulls out immediately, “Shit. Shit, Clarke… Are you...”

She shakes her head, understanding his question. “No, I’m not a virgin or anything. I just-” She worries her lower lip between her teeth, avoiding his gaze, “I’ve only been with one _guy_.” She looks back at Bellamy, “and I wasn’t any good at it.”

Bellamy’s heart aches at her words, and a lot of things about this evening are starting to make sense. Like why she was so shy when he said he wanted to go down on her. He wonders what or _who_ could have made Clarke feel like that – like _she_ wasn’t “any good.” He’s angry that someone would make her feel like it was _her_ fault. He bites back his fury as he grinds out the name between clenched teeth. “Finn.”

She nods in the affirmative, “So it’s obviously been a while, too.”               

If Bellamy didn’t hate the guy before, he certainly does now. “You know that’s bullshit, right?”

“What is?”

“That _you’re_ not any good at it.”

She shrugs, “Well, I never got much enjoyment out of it, and he made it pretty clear that I was the only girl he fucked who had any complaints, so the problem was with me, not him...”

Bellamy shakes his head, “Well, he’s full of shit.” A pauses a moment and looks back toward the direction of the hallway, “But what about-”

She snorts a laugh, “The toys?”

He smirks, “Yeah... Those.”

“I use them for… experimentation, I guess. But you’re a lot… thicker than those are. And longer. But it’s the girth that I wasn’t… prepared for.”

He tries (and fails) to keep a shit-eating grin off his face. She laughs (thank god) and smacks at his chest, “Yeah, you’re hung _and_ a sex god. Go ahead and revel in it.”

He looks at Clarke, sees her confidence warring with misplaced insecurity. “Alright.” He sits up, guiding her to do the same. “Let’s try something else.” She raises an eyebrow in question. He straightens his legs and pulls her into his lap so she can straddle him, “We do this at your pace, okay?” Clarke needs her control back. He suspects the entirety of her sexual experience with men has been wrought with lack of control, being given no options. Bellamy tasks himself with reversing whatever damage Finn Fucking Collins did to her sexual confidence.

Bellamy’s voice lowers, “I’m gonna show you how good you are…” He brings his hand down to her heat, parting her folds with his fingers. He trails his free hand up and down her spine, peppering kisses along her collarbone and up her neck then whispers against her lips, “Relax for me.”

She nods and presses her lips to his, shivering as he continues to caress her body and explore her pussy with his fingers. He can feel her loosen up as she breaks their kiss and drops her head back. He slips one finger inside of her, then two, gradually stretching them out inside of her and breathing a sigh of relief as she relaxes her inner walls. He uses the heel of his hand to rub her clit, reveling in the increased arousal dripping out of her.

He smiles when she gasps, “That feels _really_ _good_.”

“Tell me what you need,” he whispers into her neck before attaching his lips to his spot.

She nods as she tangles her fingers in his hair, “More of that thing you do inside of me. You know earlier when you-” She’s cut off by her own gasp as he crooks his fingers against that spongy spot inside of her. “- _fuck_ , yes, _that_.” Bellamy doubles his efforts as she rocks her hips against his hand and it doesn’t take long for her walls to start fluttering around his fingers.

“ _That’s_ it, Princess… I've got you.  You're almost there, I can feel it..."  He can't hold back his own moan as he watches her near the edge.  " _Fuck_ , you're so beautiful."  

She comes with a sob, clenching rhythmically around his fingers, and his mind goes a little hazy thinking about what she’ll feel like once he’s truly inside of her. She drops her head to his shoulder as the aftershocks of orgasm quake through her.

He keeps his fingers sheathed inside of her, waits for her to come down from her high. He relishes her lazy smile when she picks her head up off his shoulder to look at him.

“You doing alright?”

She nods, “Yeah. I’m ready, Bellamy.”

Bellamy pulls his fingers out of her and smiles soothingly, “Go slow this time, yeah?”

Clarke nods as she grasps his cock in her hand and positions herself above him. Bellamy groans she rubs the head along her slit to gather the copious fluids gathered there. She bites down on her lip, a line forming between her eyebrows as she starts to sink down around him. He hates that he’s the reason for the pained look on her face, but his mind goes blank with bliss as the bulbous head of his cock sinks slowly into her warmth. He thinks, _no wonder she was hurting_ , because holy _fuck_ , she’s so tight around him. She hisses at the aching twinge as she adjusts to his intrusion.

He feels her start to tense up again, so he soothingly brushes his fingers up and down her sides, “Shhh, I got you…” He brings a thumb to her clit, hoping to give her something pleasurable to counteract the discomfort. She breathes deeply and he feels her vice-like grip loosens enough to slowly let the rest of him in. He rests his free hand on her hip as he presses his forehead to hers and rubs gentle circles into her skin with his thumb.

Bellamy’s voice is a strangled moan, “You feel so goddamn good around me, Clarke…” Her leg muscles relax and she sinks the rest of the way down. "So good around me like this..." He can’t hold back a growl as he bottoms out inside of her.

“ _More_ …” She breathes in her ear.

He smirks, “You want me to talk dirty?”

She nods and presses open-mouth kisses to his neck.  He grins.  _This_ he can do, though it is a little more difficult to formulate sentences when she’s wrapped around him like this.

“Fuck, Clarke, you’re so warm and wet around me… so fucking wet… Your pussy feels so fucking good around my cock, baby, so good…”

He feels her loosen up as he talks. She stills herself and lets her body unwind around him, rakes her fingers through his wild hair. His body shudders when she brings her hands to his ears and rubs his earlobes between her thumb and forefingers. He decides that he likes that, a fucking lot. When he tells her as much, she laughs and it sounds like fucking music to his ears. She’s probably as relaxed as she’s gonna get, at least until she starts moving, but she remains calm and quiet around him. He thinks that’s probably for the best since he’s dangerously close to blowing his load and he’s not sure how long he’s gonna last.

“How do I feel inside of you, Clarke?”

She sighs and it sounds like a purr. Her voice smiles, “So. Goddamn. Good.” She smiles and closes her eyes as she drops her head back down on his shoulder. “You’re so fucking deep inside of me, Bell… I’ve never felt so full… so stretched like this, before.” He tries not be excessively proud of that. (He definitely is…).

She moves her hips experimentally, first shifting side to side with a disappointed sigh, then clumsily up and down a few times. For Bellamy, it all feels incredible, but judging by the frustrated expression on her face, she’s not getting a lot out of it. He has to wonder if Collins let her fuck in any position besides missionary, because she seems lost. (He’s irritated that that asshole keeps making an appearance in his thoughts right now, even if it _is_ only in conversations with himself). Clarke huffs with a pleading look, so he brings his hands to her waist and guides her hips in a slow, gentle rocking motion. He’s nothing short of thrilled at the throaty moan that escapes her.

 _“That – I like that…”_ Unsurprisingly, Clarke is a quick study. She takes over quickly, alternating the hip-rocking with a languid circular up-and-down motion. He’s having trouble keeping his eyes open right now, hardly able to function when he’s balls deep inside of her, but seeing the satisfaction on Clarke’s face makes it more than worth the effort.

Then it’s like a flip is switched inside of her. A sanguine expression graces her features, and Bellamy thinks, _holy shit_ … She speeds up the tempo and establishes a delicious rhythm. She’s warm and slick, and sure enough, the tension inside of her has vanished. She grins and places a hand on his chest, pressing firmly. “Lie down, Bell.”

He complies with a raised eyebrow. She looks like she’s still formulating a plan, so he uses this time to pore over her body. He drags his fingertips along the smooth skin of her thighs and up her torso, smiling at the way she shivers under his touch. He cups her tits, marvels at their heaviness in each palm. And when he rakes his thumbnail over her sensitive nipples, he’s rewarded with a guttural moan and a powerful clenching of her inner walls around him. Her eyes close and her mouth falls open in a perfect “O” shape, and when she drags her tongue teasingly along her upper lip, he almost comes right then and there. 

“Clarke," he growls warningly, "I’m not gonna last long if you keep that shit up.”

Still grinding shallowly, she looks down pointedly where his hands are groping her tits. “Nobody to blame but yourself,” she tells him breathlessly.

“Touché” He huffs.

She continues to grind herself above him, and he thinks she looks like she’s dancing above him. Or on him. Whatever, it’s fucking hot.

With her newfound confidence comes a thirst for dominance, and he’s more than happy to let her have it (this time, anyway). She drags her fingernails firmly down his arms until she reaches his hands, and in a move that has his cock twitching, she intertwines their fingers and raises them above his head, leaning over him and pinning them to the mattress with her lithe arms. She is surprisingly strong. Yeah, he could easily overpower her, but there’s no way he’s taking this away from her right now. He can see that the change in angle allows constant stimulation of her clit by his pubic bone, and he’s definitely a fan of the way her tits press against his chest while she grinds and thrusts against him.

"Bellamy I need-"

"I know, I know..."  Bellamy anchors his feet and thrusts up into her in sync with her grinding motions. Clarke approves. Loudly.

 _“Fuck, Bellamy!_ Like that – keep doing that!” They meet each other thrust for thrust, creating a delicious friction that has her keening above him. Just when he thinks she’s going to come undone, she switches it up. He wonders (with a smug grin) where she got that idea. She tightens her grip on his wrists, squeezing them to direct his attention.

“Keep them there,” she tells him with narrowed eyes.               

Bellamy nods, completely stunned by this turn of events. He’s definitely not complaining. Still grinding herself slowly and deeply against him, she rolls her body back up, dragging – no, _digging_ – her fingernails into the sensitive undersides of his arms as she rises to a seated position. She places her hands on his chest to balance herself as she starts to move her body with more vigor. He lasciviously rakes his eyes over Clarke’s body as it stretches and curves above him, her tits bouncing with every roll of her hips. He glances at the junction between them and is completely fascinated by the visual of her pussy stretched over his cock, mesmerized as he watches himself disappear in her.

“Bellamy,” She smirks down at him, seemingly entertained by his greedy facial expression.

He looks up at her and clears his throat, “Hmm?”

_“Touch me.”_

Bellamy thinks, _finally_ and _thank god_ because he was about to lose his shit, being unable to feel her skin under his fingers. “ _Where_ do you want me to touch you, Clarke?”

She smiles, “Give me your hands.” He brings his hands to hers and she guides them to her tits. “ _Here_.” Clarke catches his stupid grin and laughs in amusement, “You’re a boob guy, aren’t you?”

Bellamy smirks, “For yours, I am…” He squeezes them, tweaks her nipples (and he’s loving her response to _that_ ). “Fucking look at them, Clarke – they’re fantastic.”

Normally, Bellamy is not one to give up control like this. He’s a dyed-in-the-wool “Alpha Male” and all that shit. But watching Clarke Griffin use his body like her favorite sex toy? Yeah, he’s a fan. (And no, the sex toy comparison does not escape him). She savors her power, and that’s worth his initial unease with relinquishing his control.

She beams at him and a wanton growl escapes her as he pinches her nipples between his fingers. “Oh, _fuck_ , Bell!” Her movements above him speed up and become increasingly unconstrained as she chases her orgasm. Her voice is raspy, “I like that. Remember that one… I like it _a lot_.” He thrusts harder up into her, trying to give her as much stimulation as she can handle, and the response he gets is fucking splendid. “Oh god, Bell… I’m so close!” She bends forward again, crashing her mouth onto his, and he’s overwhelmed by the passion escaping this woman. “Bellamy, I need you to come with me… come _in_ me… Please!”’

Bellamy nods fervently, barely able to form a fucking sentence at this point, panting out “Are you close, baby?”  

She nods, snaking her arms around his neck and shoulders, crushing herself into him. He follows suit, wrapping his arms around her back and holding her close to him while she writhes against him in the best possible way.

She cries out _“_ I’m about to—Oh god, I’m gonna-”

"Fuck, Clarke!"  

And that’s all it takes for him to fucking _erupt_.  He drives his cock deep into her and holds himself there to relish the way her inner walls pulsate powerfully around him, milking him for everything he’s got. Her body practically vibrates above him and he’s pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven.

They stay like that for a while, sticky with sweat but _oh_ -so sated. Bellamy is strangely turned on by the sensation of his cum (and he’s realizing there’s a _lot_ of it) dripping back out of her while she recovers, still sheathing him inside of her trembling body. They remain wrapped up around each other for a while, comfortable in their silence while he caresses her spine with his fingers.

“Bellamy?”

“Yeah, Clarke?”

“That was fucking incredible.”

Bellamy huffs a laugh, “I think that’s an understatement.”

She chuckles with him.

He asks, “You still worried about compatibility?”

Clarke shakes her head, “Not even a little bit.”

“Good.” They’re quiet for a few more moments. “And Clarke?”

“Hmm?”

“Never, _ever_ let it be said that you aren’t ‘any good’ at sex.”

She lifts her head up to face him with breathtaking sincerity in her eyes, “I think I was just with the wrong person.”

Bellamy cradles her face in his hands, “You’re fucking incredible.”

Clarke presses her lips to his and brings him into a scorching kiss, igniting his blood with its intensity. He’s pretty sure he’ll never get tired of kissing Clarke Griffin.

After a heavy makeout session (which, do you still call it "making out" when you’re an adult?), Clarke tells him they need to clean up because she “just put these sheets on this afternoon, and we’re gonna get them all dirty.” They wrap themselves in towels, ready to dart across the hallway, when they see that the toys were never picked up (they were a little preoccupied), so they quickly gather them and toss them into her room before dashing to the bathroom.

In the shower, they learn that Clarke really, really likes being fucked up against a wet tile wall. She tells him to remember that. Like he’d ever forget.

* * *

After their shower (during which they definitely ran out of hot water), they step into the hallway and hear that O and Raven have returned and are chatting in the living room.

He hears Raven’s voice, “So how did you know _which_ box had all her sex toys?”

Octavia snorts, “She had labeled it ‘ _Clarke’s – do not open_ ’ with a fuck ton of exclamation points. It was pretty fucking obvious.” Clarke looks slightly offended that her friends find her so predictable.

Raven laughs, “Oh, Clarke...” She pauses a second, then asks, “Wait, how did you know Bellamy was going to be the one carrying it when the tape gave out?”

“Actually, that was just fate. I figured if Bellamy even _heard_ about Clarke having sex toys, it would put him in a dirty frame of mind and hopefully sway his brain to make an actual fucking move on her…”

They hear Raven’s trademark cackling, “You Blakes and your dirty minds…”

Octavia laughs, “It was fucking destiny or something. I almost couldn’t believe the luck of Bellamy actually being the one who was carrying the box.”

Raven gasps, “ _That’s_ why you were flying out of the apartment before I even said anything.”

“Yeah, I saw him pick up the box and pretty much knew what would be happening next…”

Bellamy hears both girls laughing like goddamn hyenas, but can’t find it in himself to judge their scheming. Because really, no complaints here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we got a look into the source Clarke's vulnerability. And a change up from Bellamy's typical alpha-male persona. 
> 
> ****** 
> 
> I'm supposed to be packing, not writing... because we move into our new house at the end of the month (yay!) But I much prefer procrastination... 
> 
> Once I do stop procrastinating, updates will be farther apart for a little while, just until we get settled in. 
> 
> REVIEWS are basically the best thing ever. I love hearing what you guys think. Favorite lines? Requests? (I love requests!) Tell me you love it? Or hate it? (Actually don't tell me that. I take these comments way too seriously.)
> 
> Also, if you haven't left KUDOS, please do! Those make my day! 
> 
> Last, but not least, thank you guys so very much for reading!


	7. Clarke (IV)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke going to pound town in the shower 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, THANK YOU so much for your support!  
> I have LOVED getting all of your reviews, so please keep them coming! 
> 
> My apologies for taking so long to get this chapter out. I have two other fics (A pornstar!Bellamy AU: [I'll give you all kinds of new material](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4890298) and [Unexpected Explorations](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3754966/chapters/8335189)) that I don't want to neglect, and I had kinda hit a "smut wall" with this one. But my muse came through, and I hope you guys find it was worth the wait! 
> 
> Also, I want to thank [Amber](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ohalaskayoung/pseuds/ohalaskayoung) for being a lovely second pair of eyes and beta-ing this for me!

Clarke is pretty sure she has a kink for Bellamy’s voice. It’s like, the _embodiment_ of sex, and holy fuck, it _does_ things to her. She wonders if maybe she could orgasm just from listening to all the sinful things he tells her in his graveled tone.

Clarke has known for a long, long time that she wants to have sex with Bellamy. She has eyes. And ovaries. And _hormones,_ goddammit. But at some point in the time she’s known him, she realized that she wants _more_ with him than just mind-blowing sex. She’s just not sure if “more” hinges on sexual forte. So yeah, she freaks out a bit because her first and only male partner all but told her she was a bad lay. Talk about a confidence-killer… Then Bellamy tells her that he’s wanted her for _seven_ _years_. That kind of build-up sets up high expectations, and she’s not at all confident that she can meet them. What if he’s been waiting and yearning all these years, only for her to let him down?

Bellamy’s words send her heart soaring, and they’re exactly what she needs to hear. _“We’ll keep trying until we get it right.”_ Okay… She can do this.

When he finally starts to enter her, she can feel that it’s going to be a stretch (literally), and figures she might as well take the band-aid approach. Just get it done and it’ll start to feel good soon enough, right? She curses herself for being so impatient, for not letting Bellamy take his time with her. She just really, really needed him inside of her… She didn’t think it would hurt like _this_. When Finn took her virginity, there was very little pain involved. And she’s played with dildos and vibrators. But right now she’s tense, and he’s got girth that she’s not prepared for, and that’s a painful combination.

A small, insecure part of her fears that she’ll meet his gaze and find ridicule, but instead she sees gentleness. That expression surprises her at first. They don’t fit into her “Bellamy-Blake-is-a-womanizing-asshole Box.” But if she’s being honest with herself, Bellamy is, at his core, a gentle and compassionate person. She has to reconcile Bellamy-the-serial one-night-stander with the Bellamy who drops everything to help her out of a bind. Bellamy, who left in the middle of a date to help her when she was stranded on the side of the road in tears because the tire-iron had snapped while she was changing a flat. Bellamy, who knew not to make jokes about having to rescue her, even though he totally could have...

Bellamy puts Clarke in control. He tells her that he’s gonna show her how good she is, and she feels a confidence she never felt when Finn used to fuck her. He starts by getting her off with his fingers, coaxing her into an orgasm that is simultaneously soothing and exhilarating. She feels herself relax inside, and her body is ready to welcome him into her. And that thought is thrilling… So she sinks down on him, slowly letting him fill her. Her thoughts stray again to whether or not he’ll fit and she tenses up, but Bellamy unwinds her just right and soon he’s filled her completely. His deep voice coats her like honey as he tells her, _so very lewdly_ , how good she feels around him. When he says that, it feels like he’s talking about more than how her pussy feels wrapped around his cock, but she’s gonna go ahead and _not_ read into it right now. When she tells him that he’s _deep inside_ of her, she knows for a fact that she’s talking about much more than just how far his cock reaches into her depths...

Clarke’s no virgin… not by a long shot. But that doesn’t mean she’s comfortable on top. She wasn’t good at riding cowgirl with Finn. He usually gave her less than a minute of fumbling around in his lap before he would flip them over and pound into her, finishing the job himself. Now she’s thinking that maybe she should’ve spent more time practicing this sort of movement with her suction-mounted friend, “Bellamy.” Oh, hindsight…

She’s thinking a few awkward wiggles here and there, then surely Bellamy will have mercy and take over… But no, that’s not what he does at all. Instead he brings his hands to her hips and _shows_ her how to move. And holy _fuck_ it feels good when he moves with her.

Bellamy makes her feel like a _goddess_. He looks up at her like she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and right now, that’s exactly how she feels. He’s almost like putty in her hands. She gets immeasurable satisfaction from pushing him back onto the mattress and having her way with him. She knows that being out of control in any context makes him uncomfortable, and she figures that’s probably especially true with sex, so it means that much more that he’ll do this for her. He’ll let her call the shots right now, and for that she is grateful. She luxuriates in the way his fingers travel over her curves, how his thumbnails lightly scrape over her nipples and send bolts of pleasure shooting through her core.

She soaks up the image of Bellamy Blake, alpha male extraordinaire, on his back underneath her with his arms trapped above his head. That’s new, and it’s one of the hottest things she’s ever seen. Now, Clarke knows how incredible her boobs are. She uses them to her advantage on a regular basis. But something about the way Bellamy worships them gives her a huge boost in confidence. She relishes this power she has, wonders why she never sought it out before. They move their bodies in a beautiful rhythm, madly chasing their release until they’re a haggard mess, heaving and panting against each other as they recover from the most mind-blowing orgasm she’s ever experienced.

For all her bliss, Clarke isn’t even a little bit surprised. She knew Bellamy would be this way: Completely life-altering. She’s not sure anyone else will measure up after this. She’s not sure she wants anyone else to try.

Next thing she knows, they’re darting across the hall to the bathroom (after frantically retrieving all the toys scattered down the hallway and throwing them into her room). She stops for a second to acknowledge the fact that she’s going to take a shower with Bellamy Blake. Like, she’s imagined this exact thing this for years. _Years_ , people _._ This is a regular withdraw from her spank bank. Seeing beads of water drip down his torso is practically an affliction for her. Every goddamn summer since freshman year of high school has been exercise in frustration and denial. Like when he would let her and O tag along when he went to the lake with his friends. He acted like it was a favor, but really he just wanted to keep his sister in his line of sight. His friends weren’t stupid enough to hit on O in front of him, so as long as she was with him, he could rest easy knowing that she wasn’t being defiled by some sperm-filled brainless jock.

When they close the door, Bellamy turns on the water. As they wait for it to heat up, Clarke glances at her reflection in the mirror and groans when she sees the obnoxiously dark hickey he left behind her ear. She sees him chuckle when he catches her rubbing at it. To be honest, Clarke isn’t sure if she’s trying to wipe it away or make it darker…

Clarke gives him a glare that lacks any real heat. “You’re such a fucking caveman, Bellamy.”

Bellamy shrugs, completely unapologetic for marring her skin. No, he’s patently delighted by it, as evidenced by the smirk across his face as he attaches his lips back to it. She rolls her eyes with as much drama as she can conjure up as she tries to hide the satisfaction she feels from being so blatantly marked as _his._ Her hands find purchase on the edge of the counter as she attempts to keep herself upright. Bellamy’s ministrations seem to have this way of making her light-headed… Her eyes close against her will when he sucks the mark into his mouth, biting down harshly as he abrades his tongue along the sensitive skin. Any protest that was boiling up inside of her is cut off by the sharp shiver that shoots through her body when Bellamy growls against her neck.

She opens her eyes and looks into the mirror, and the image that greets her takes her breath away. This man is so incredibly _into_ her. Like, she’s _felt_ it this whole afternoon and evening, so she knows on a deep level that he’s crazy about her. But _seeing_ it – that’s something else completely. She watches his hand travel up her outer thighs, then all the way up her sides. She can’t suppress the groan that escapes her when his fingers trail up the undersides of her arms as he brings them up and wraps them behind his neck, effectively baring her naked form to his view in the mirror. Judging by his increasingly hungry gaze, he likes what he sees. Clarke tangles her fingers in his inky curls and they catch each other’s eyes in the mirror. Her brain seems to short-circuit at his darkened expression while he keeps deepening his mark, and the action is almost painful at this point. She’s hopelessly locked into his gaze, but in the periphery she can see his fingers traveling in concentric circles around her aching breasts. He hisses sharply against her neck and she isn’t sure why until she realizes she’s pulling hard at the hair that’s tangled in her fingers.

She frowns in concern as she loosens her grip on his locks, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He shakes his head with an understanding smile, which transforms into a wicked smirk, “I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Well. That’s _interesting._

Steam starts to come from the shower and fogs up the mirror, obscuring her view of his fingers finding her heat… He chuckles at her offended protest when he stops his ministrations to disentangle her arms from his neck and steps away. He takes hold of her wrist as he steps into the shower and pulls her in behind him. She’s _really_ glad the girls agreed to spring for the unit with the fancy bathroom. It has a separate shower _and_ tub, which is awesome. Her mind races with all kinds of depraved possibilities when she sees the built-in tile seat in the shower.

He turns them so she’s underneath the spray. She can’t help but grin at his dumb smile when he sees the water flow over her shoulders and down her curves. It’s even better when she lifts her hands to her hair, making sure all the strands get wet. She’s downright amused by the way he’s so obviously entranced by her boobs. Again, she’s perfectly aware that they’re great, but it’s pretty fucking awesome to see that something as simple as breasts can make Bellamy’s brain just… stop. As she lathers the shampoo in her hair, she switches places with Bellamy, but he doesn’t once remove his gaze from her while he lathers and quickly rinses his hair of shampoo. They switch places again and she drops her head back into the water as she rinses the suds from her locks, smiling when she hears Bellamy’s strangled groan. She lifts her head back up and shoots him a sultry grin as she fondles her own breasts, relishing his ravenous facial expression.

Then she sees it… those lovely beads of water on his tanned skin. The view that has haunted her for years, only now it’s _so much better_. She can follow each droplet of water down his broad chest and beautifully toned abs. Oh, but it doesn’t stop at a loathsome pair of swim trunks. Not anymore. She shamelessly rakes her gaze down his body and feels her eyes widen when it lands on his veined shaft.

He smirks, “You like what you see, Clarke?”

She huffs, “You have no idea.” She gives him a serious look as she unhurriedly walks her fingers along his washboard abs, “Do you know how much this, right here, tortured me every summer at the lake?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Oh?”

She sighs and closes her eyes with a memory, “Every. Fucking. Summer. You’d have O and I tag along to hang out with your friends…” She chuckles, “You’d come sauntering up to get a beer from the cooler, and I’d see all of this -” she gestures up and down his body. “- and I would get so fucking worked up.”

He huffs a laugh, “Is that right?”

She nods, “Yeah. I swear you were doing it on purpose, too. Do you have any idea how many innocent book pages were victims of my sexual frustration?”

“Why were you hurting books?!” He looks openly offended at the idea of senseless book destruction. And normally, Clarke would be totally in that same boat, but it was totally his fault.

“You’d be all dripping wet and you’d come sit down next to us, and I’d tense up so bad I’d tear a page. Every fucking time.”

He shakes his head with a smile, “And here I thought it was because you were pissed at me.”

She chuckles, “It was probably that, too... There were times I’d grit my teeth so hard I thought I’d break them when you’d flash that stupid grin at me.”

He steps closer to her and sweeps her sopping wet hair behind her shoulders. His grin is wicked as he brushes his lips along the shell of her ear, “It was payback for all of your teasing.”

She pushes him away and opens her mouth in shock, “I was _NOT_ teasing!”

He laughs as he sweeps his fingers along her stomach, “Oh, really? So you _weren’t_ trying to make me crazy when you wore those tiny fucking swimsuits?”

Clarke’s expression remains scandalized, “I always wore one-piece swimsuits!”

He snorts, “You wore those hot ones with the sides cut out that were all curvy and shit.”

She frowns, “It’s not like they were bikinis. They were one-pieces! I was _not_ teasing!”

He scoffs, “Yeah right, those barely qualified as _swimsuits_. Like the white one? It was all side-boob.” He cups her breasts in his large hands with a grin and mumbles under his breath, “Not that I was complaining.”  

Clarke chuckles, “Yeah, it did have a lot of side-boob. I can’t help that, though. I _had_ to wear one-pieces because I always fell out of bikini tops.”

He gives her a sidelong glance, “Do you have any idea how many threats I had to make toward my friends on your behalf?”

She rolls her eyes, “I know how crazy you went about Octavia. Don’t go thinking we weren’t aware of your ulterior motives to keep her away from boys.”

He shakes his head, “Well, yeah. But that was my sister. And it turns out she was seeing Lincoln the whole time, anyway.” He huffs, “The guys were pretty vulgar about you. And those little swimsuits of yours did _not_ help.”

Clarke rests her hand on his chest with a teasing smile, “Awww, did you have to defend my honor?”

He smirks, “Yeah, I did… But then they thought we were fucking on the side.”

She frowns, “They did?”

Bellamy tilts his head, “When I realized it was the only thing that got them to shut up, I didn’t correct them.”  

Clarke nods, “Oh.” She pauses a second to think about that. “It’s too bad you didn’t say something… could’ve made that true a lot sooner.”

He chuckles, “You had just gotten out of high school, Clarke. I wasn’t gonna be that guy.”

“What guy?”

He winces, “That guy who goes after young girls. I mean yeah, you were hot, and I was totally into you. But I wasn’t about to make a move on an 18-year old. I would’ve felt like I was taking advantage of you or something. Trust me, I put a lot of thought into it.” He huffs, “A _lot_ of thought…”

She smiles sweetly, “That probably would have been true. I was pretty naïve at 18…”

“I knew myself. I used women. I didn’t want to use you.”

Clarke laughs, “I remember your revolving door of conquests.”

He shrugs, “Yeah, but they knew what they were in for. Nobody was getting hurt.”

Clarke gives him a thoughtful look, “You were right, then.”

“Right about what?”

“You were right not to try and sleep with me. Because that definitely would’ve hurt…”

He nods and looks her in the eye, “You know that’s not what _this_ is, right?”

Clarke smiles, “I hoped not. I’m glad to hear it from you, though.”

He smiles back, “Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Me too.” She reaches behind herself to retrieve some shower gel, then squirts some into her hands and slowly lathers it up. She revels in the way his breath hitches when she rubs her hands over his body, methodically cleansing his skin. As she makes her way lower, she’s completely unaware that she’s licking her lips until her tongue catches on Bellamy’s thumb. She’s not sure when his thumb made its way to her mouth, and her gaze snaps up to his in surprise. In a moment of odd inspiration, she gently sucks it into her mouth and laves her tongue over it. She feels a distinct satisfaction when he shivers in response.

“ _Fuck_ , Clarke…”

She smirks as she pulls her mouth away with a “pop” sound.

“Yeah, let’s do that…”

He wastes no time turning her around so she’s facing away from him. She initially wants to protest the lack of eye contact, but then she’s quickly reminded just how good he is with his hands, and now there’s soap and water making everything all… slippery. Well. She feels his hard cock poking her in the back, so she instinctively reaches behind herself and takes hold of him in her slick hands.

He groans, “Fuck, yes… Keep doing that.” He guides her hands to squeeze a little tighter, moaning when she gets it _just_ right. Then it’s like his hands are everywhere… her shoulders, her abdomen, her breasts… and _oh god_ , he’s doing sinful things. His hands are all soapy now, so they slide smoothly over her globes of flesh as he grasps onto them. He slides his hands over the slick skin of her breasts until her nipples are trapped between his fingers, much like how someone would hold a cigarette. Not that she wants to associate any part of her body with cigarettes, but she’s not sure how else to describe it… It’s fucking blissful.

Clarke’s arm starts to cramp up from the awkward angle, so she arches her back and rubs her ass over his cock instead, letting her ample curves do the work... This seems to awaken something inside of him because he practically yelps as he grips onto her hips with bruising force to hold her still.

She whines, “Bellamy, _more…_ ” More of what? She isn’t sure. But she needs _something_ … Then his fingers make their way between her folds and _there it is_. “ _Fuck,_ yes! That – more of that.” She knows the soap has rinsed away by now, and is almost mortified by how slick she still is. Because she realizes that’s coming from _her_.

“Jesus, Clarke…You’re fucking wet.”

She laughs, trying to bite back her embarrassment, “Yeah, we’re in the shower, wet is a thing here.”

He shakes his head, “No. _You’re_ wet.” As if to make sure, he brings his fingers to his mouth and tastes them with a growl that is downright salacious. “Yeah. That’s all you.”

Clarke loses the ability to speak, unbelievably turned on by the vulgar act, so she answers with a shuddering groan.

He chuckles as he thrusts his fingers into her, curling them just right so her knees nearly buckle while his free hand keeps her upright, holding her tight against his chest. And _shit_ that feels amazing. Within mere minutes, she feels that wonderful pressure building up in her core, begging for release that only he can give her.  

“ _More.._.”

She sighs with satisfaction when she feels the heel of his hand against her throbbing clit and cries out in rapture when she _finally_ comes undone.  

While she recovers, she feels him breathe into her neck, “I’m going to fuck you, now, Clarke.”

Her response is a breathy “ _Please_.”

"Oh, I'm going to fuck you  _good_."  

Bellamy spins her around and captures her lips in a searing kiss that makes her feel like she’s floating and drowning at the same time. He wraps his arms around her back and pulls her body flush against his while she brings her hands to his face and deepens the kiss. She feels his hands travel down her backside and she groans into his mouth when he crushes the flesh of her ass in his fingers. He steps backwards and sits on the tile bench so she’s standing in front of him. She starts to straighten up,but Bellamy shakes his head with a growl, wordlessly demanding more time with her breasts. (There’s a request she’s more than happy to fulfill…). He runs a hand down the back of her thigh until he reaches her knee. He picks her leg up and plants her foot on the bench next to his hips.

“Like this,” he tells her as he pulls down on her hips to line her entrance up with his cock.

She sinks down onto him with a wanton cry. This is a new kind of depth, like she’s been drilled into in the best possible way. She grinds her clit against his pelvic bone while she readjusts to his intrusion, drawing gratified groans out of both of them. With one foot anchored by his hips and the other planted firmly on the ground, she raises herself off of him, just a little at first while she finds her balance, but gaining more assurance as she repeats the motion.

"Goddamn, Clarke.  You feel so fucking good."  

Soon their hips are meeting in a near-frantic rhythm and she can feel his strangled moans as he gets closer and closer to the edge.

Bellamy groans, “Hold on a sec,” and stills her movements with his hands. She gives him an annoyed look before he pulls her fully into his lap so she’s straddling him and wraps his arms around her back. She moans in appreciation when he tugs a nipple into his mouth and plants her hands onto the wall behind him while he thrusts up into her again.

She breathes in his ear, “Oh, fuck… Keep doing that, I like that.”

He huffs, "Alright, I've got you..."

He increases his efforts, meeting her lips for a ferocious kiss that totally consumes her. Suddenly he stands up and she instinctively wraps her arms and legs around him, locking her ankles behind his back. He presses her into the wall, laughs lightly at the squeak that escapes her when her back hits the cold tile. She wants to answer with an irritated glare, but a drawn-out groan comes out instead as he slowly pulls out, then snaps his hips back into hers with a force that sends her higher up on the wall.

She studies Bellamy, sees how relieved he is to be back in the driver’s seat. He didn’t necessarily look _uncomfortable_ while she was in control, but he certainly didn’t look as in his element as he does right now. She loses all thoughts beyond the pleasure he gives her as he drives into her, sending them both into a state of delirium. She feels the back of her head hit the tile over and over while he ravages her body until she’s on the precipice of orgasm.

She cries out, “Bellamy!” as she crashes over the edge into a sea of euphoria, carried away on waves of pleasure… As she comes back down, winded and sated, she feels Bellamy’s arms tighten around her while his movements become erratic and furious until at last he halts with an explosive final thrust, making her entire body shiver as she feels him pulsing within her.

They stay there, chests heaving while he keeps her pinned to the wall with his body. She tangles her fingers into his wet hair, absentmindedly massaging his scalp as they recover.

Her voice is shaking, “Oh. My. God.”

He laughs, “Good, yeah?”

She pulls on his hair lightly, “You know it was.” With a smile, she lowers her lips to his in an overwhelmingly tender kiss. They stay caught up in each other, enjoying the feel of their bodies against each other.

They’re abruptly brought back to reality when the water begins to cool down. Bellamy lets her down with a huff while he leans over and turns off the faucet.

She laughs, “Well, at least all the soap is rinsed off. And we’re mostly clean.” She grabs a washcloth so she can clean up the… _mess_ between her legs.

Bellamy chuckles, and she can feel his laugh surround her in a most comforting way. He steps out of the shower and grabs a towel. She holds her hand out for him to give it to her, but instead he pulls her closer and gently dries her skin with it. She’s dumbfounded by the gesture, so she stands contentedly and luxuriates in the sensations of the towel dabbing at her damp skin. When he’s finished, in a moment of inspiration, she picks up his towel and returns the favor, methodically patting him dry. She’s stunned by his soft expression in his eyes when she looks up and catches his gaze.

She breaks the comfortable silence. She points her thumb at the shower, “I liked that…” After a beat, “So, yeah. Remember that.”

His lips curve into something between a smirk and a smile, “Like I could forget.”

She rises onto her toes and plants a quick kiss to his lips. “I’m glad this… happened.”

His smile is genuine, “I am, too.” He huffs after a moment, “Took us long enough...”

She returns his smile as she wraps her towel around and tucks the end under her arm. “What now?”

He smirks, “Well, our friends are going to be completely insufferable.”

Clarke nods, “Obviously. And there’s no hiding it from them.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s a possibility.”

“So we’re…” she trails off.

His voice almost sounds nervous, “…together?”

She nods with a smile, “Together.”

He grins, “I like the sound of that.”

When they step out of the bathroom, wrapped in towels, she can hear Raven and Octavia chatting in the living room. She knows she looks shocked as she hears them discussing Octavia’s meddling. Yeah, they’re assholes, but they’re well-meaning assholes. Bellamy shrugs with a smirk when Raven and Octavia break out in uncontrollable laughter.

They sneak back into her room to get dressed again. His other clothes are all sweaty, and she can see him analyzing his predicament of whether he should get dressed in them again. She huffs a laugh and digs into the bottom of a box to pull out a T-shirt for him.

He catches it as she tosses it over. He shakes it out to inspect it and huffs, “Do you know how long I looked for this shirt?”

Clarke gives him an innocent expression, “It’s yours?” He raises an eyebrow, calling her on her bullshit, so she relents, “ _Fine_. I stole it.”

He chuckles as he pulls it over his head, “What other clothes of mine do you have?”

She shrugs unapologetically as she tosses him some boxers and pajama pants, “Some of your stuff got mixed into my laundry when you stayed with us that week. I may have forgotten to give it back.”

He smirks, “Well, I guess that worked itself out.”

She gives him a grin, “I want that shirt back, though.”

“But it’s my favorite.” His pout is adorable, but she’s immune to it.

“How about this: You can wear it ‘til it smells like you again. Then I’m taking it back.” She chuckles at the mopey expression on Bellamy’s face, mourning as she pulls her own T-shirt to cover her breasts.

“Fine. But only-” he dips his face closer to hers, “-if you tell me how often you wear it.”

She rolls her eyes, “Only when I run out of my other pajamas. O gives me way too much shit if she sees me wearing it.”

“Well, I’m wearing it tonight.”

She smirks, “I don’t think I’ll have a problem getting it off of you later.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t doubt it.”

She pulls her pajama shorts on, then puts her damp hair into a messy bun. “Okay, I’m hungry, so we have to go out there.”

He pulls her close, “You ready for all their I-told-you-so’s?”

She sighs, “As ready as I’ll ever be… We’ll have to deal with them sooner or later, so we might as well get it over with.”

He chuckles and kisses her forehead, “That’s the spirit.” He opens the door and tugs on her hand, “Come on, let’s do this.”

She looks at him with a smile. Yeah, they’ll be just fine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gotta figure out where to go next with this one... I love prompts, so leave them in the comments and I'll see if I can work them into the fic. Or go to my [tumblr](http://missemarissa.tumblr.com/) (MissEMarissa) and leave new ones there :) 
> 
> If you haven't already, click that KUDOS button! 
> 
> And I say this every time, but REVIEWS are the best thing that can happen to authors. It's like our payment or something... I went back when I hit my "rut" and read you guys' reviews for this fic, and it gave me new motivation to go back and re-work the chapter into something I liked. (I had to ask myself, "why didn't I do that earlier?"). So, if you have a second, leave a comment :) 
> 
> Last but not least, THANK YOU for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Come laugh with/at me on [tumblr](http://missemarissa.tumblr.com/) (MissEMarissa) while I figure out what the hell I'm doing...


End file.
